We Come For Them
by BewareTheWalkers
Summary: Just when they think it's finally theirs, they come. It's how it always happens. Either the dead or the living screw everything up for the group, and, well, they kill a few, too. It never changes. It's always the same events, just in different places. And Clary, she doesn't know how much more she can take. She can only hope she's still alive when it's all over.
1. Prologue: Vatos

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except for Clary.**

 **I'm back again so come one come all to this tragic affair that's the life of Cheyenne Dixon.**

* * *

 ** _~Clary~_**

"Shane, go!" I yell, taking down a walker near him. "Run!"

"Together!" the former officer yells back, taking my arm and pulling me with him. We duck around the walkers, running for the RV. I try to pull away, to run back to Daryl, but he tightens his hold on my arm. "Shane!" I cry.

"You'll never make it!" he replies as the RV door swings open, Glenn leaning out of it. He yells out to us, "C'mon! Get in! Get in!"

Shane lets go of my arm, pushing past Glenn into the RV. I back up as a walker separates me from the RV, stumbling towards me. "Clary!" Glenn yells.

At the sound of his voice, I snap back, pulling out my knife and putting the walker down. I dodge a walker just as I run into the RV, nearly tripping in my haste to get in. Glenn catches me, falling back on the ground beside Shane. Carl leans around us, closing the door as Shane yells up to Rick, "We've gotta go!"

"Hold on!" Rick barks, twisting and turning to avoid walkers. I take a minute to catch my breathe, resting my head on Glenn's shoulder. "You hurt?" he asks me.

I shake my head, looking up when I feel a hand on my shoulder. Carl kneels on the ground beside us, one hand on my shoulder, the other on Shane's arm. "You guys okay?" he asks.

"I'm fine," Shane tells him.

I push myself up off of Glenn, leaning back against Lori's seat as I nod my answer. "Jesus, man," I sigh, looking over at Shane. "I'm sorry, man. I didn't even see 'em."

"I didn't either," he replies. "They may be slow, but they just don't tire. They just keep coming." He looks up at Rick. "Thank you."

"Don't thank us," Lori tells him. "Thank Daryl. He's the one who noticed."

"He started honking and yelling his head off," Dale tells us, grinning down at me. The others laugh, while I sigh, closing my eyes. Even from that distance, Daryl still had my back, was still keeping me safe. I reach up between Rick and Lori, grabbing the CB before leaning back beside Carl. "Hey, kemosabe," I say into it.

"Yeah?" comes his reply, and I grin at the sound of his voice.

"Thanks for havin' my back."

"Not a problem. You good?"

"We're good," I tell him. "But I don't know what our next move is. But I'll see you then." I put the CB back, looking up at Rick. "Got anythin', Officer?"

"I got one," he says.

"Is it good?"

"It occurs to me we have friends in this town." He glances back at the Korean. "Glenn, what do you think?"

"Yeah!" he says, realizing whoever it is Rick's talking about.

"It'll buy us some time. A night or two till we figure out what we're doing."

"The nursing home," Glenn explains. "Guillermo and his people."

"You mean the fuckers that kidnapped you?" I question.

"We parted on good enough terms," Rick says.

"Good enough don't mean jack shit."

"You weren't there, Clary," Glenn says. "You didn't see the way that Rick handled things. They're our friends. They'll take us in."

I sigh at that. Damn, I trust Glenn, and if he trusts these people, then it should be good enough for me. But these same people took him hostage, threatened to kill him. But still, I sigh. "Damn, Short Round. I hope you're right. But don't think he's gettin' away with anythin' less than a right cross to the face."

Beside me, Carl chuckles, but the group's silent the rest of the way to the nursing home. As we all climb out, Andrea looks around, remarking, "They look like they're barely hanging on. What makes you think they'll take in strangers?"

"With all those guns we gave 'em, they'll probably throw us a party," Daryl replies.

"No problem there," I say. "I'm always up for a fiesta."

Daryl snorts, looking up at Rick. "Good call. For once."

Rick looks over at me, and I shake my head, silently telling him that it'll be better not to reply. Glenn leads the way through a broken window into a courtyard, and we all follow suit, weapons raised. He turns back to look at us about halfway in, asking, "Where are the lookouts?"

"Changing of the guard?" I suggest, but that worries me. We continue on, around a corner, then stop. "Son of a bitch."

Walkers found this place before we did, and a few graze on the bodies of Guillermo's people. I draw my gun as the group of walkers gets to their feet, and I ask, "Rick?"

He draws his gun, but he doesn't issue orders. The walkers stumble closer, and he still isn't telling us what to do. The one in the lead will be on us in a matter of seconds, and I fire, taking it down. "To hell with the noise," I say, glaring over at Rick. "Do your damn job, Officer, or give up the crown!"

Glenn and Daryl immediately follow my orders, Rick and Shane joining a moment later. We take the ones closest to us down, a few still a ways away. "C'mon!" I bark, starting towards the door. "Get inside!"

Rick pushes past me, taking the lead as we hurry in. The women behind us stop short when they see the bodies of the elderly on the ground, Sophia beginning to cry. Daryl turns around, snapping at both her and Carol, "Put a sock in it!"

"Leave her alone!" Carol snaps, and I blink in surprise. Damn, nearly everyone from the Atlanta camp is terrified of Daryl and I, but Carol practically tells him to shut the hell up. I'm liking this woman more and more.

"Shut her up or I will!" Daryl replies.

"Daryl!" I snap, turning to face him. "Shut the fuck up! Leave 'em alone, you ass!" I glance over my shoulder at the leader. "Rick, we stayin' or goin'?"

"We don't have the fuel," Rick answers.

"We'll hunker down for the night," Shane says. "Rick, you, me, and Dixon are gonna sweep the building, make sure we're alone. Rest of you, barricade those doors."

He turns and continues on, Rick directly behind him. Daryl and I follow suit, and I glance over my shoulder to find Carol shushing her daughter. We come into a dining room of sorts, tables turned, bodies strewn around. I find myself looking down at them, studying them. I look up as I feel Daryl's hand on my back, and he whispers, "C'mon. We still got more to clear."

I follow him to the next floor, following closely behind him as we clear the hall. He pushes open a door, and I follow his gaze to the old man laying dead. I look down at the door, snorting as I read the door. _Prayer changes things._ Daryl follows my gaze, then scoffs, looking back at the body. "Guess that didn't work so well for you, did it, hoss?"

I tap his arm as he starts away, still staring at the body. "C'mon, Clars," he says, taking my hand. "Starin' ain't gonna do nothin'."

"That's not what I mean, Daryl," I say, tugging him back towards the room. "Look and tell me what you see."

Daryl looks for a second, then says, "He was shot in the head."

"And the ones downstairs?"

He looks down at me. "Same thing." Daryl takes my arm, pulling me with him to check and clear the rest of the floor. "C'mon."

We gather back in the dining hall, the group that was supposed to barricade meeting us there. "Upstairs is our best bet," Rick says as Daryl looks around again. "We've cleared a few rooms. We can barricade those if we have to. We'll be alright."

"You mean it this time?" Carol questions. "Or are you lying to us like all the times before?"

I raise my eyebrows at that. Damn, I really like this woman. Lori tells her, "That's unfair. And no help at all."

"Life's unfair," I say, looking up at her. "I'd suggest you'd best get used to it. This ain't the world it was 'fore. Just look 'round if you don't believe me."

"What the hell happened?" Glenn questions, cutting Lori off.

"What do you think?" Andrea asks. "They got overrun." Daryl scoffs at her statement, and she turns to look at him. "Something to say?"

"Yeah," he replies. "How about 'observant?'"

"'Observant?'" she repeats. "Wow, big word from a guy like you. Three whole syllables."

"You'd best watch your mouth," I snap.

"Walkers didn't do this," Daryl says. "They didn't show up till all this went down. Somebody attacked this place. Killed all these people, took whatever they wanted."

"What do you mean?" Rick questions.

"They were all shot in the head," I explain.

"Execution style," Daryl adds. "Y'all worried 'bout walkers? I'd be much more worried 'bout the people that came and did all this." He looks over towards Andrea. "Get a dictionary. Look it up. Observant."

"We may be hicks," I snap, staring Andrea down as Daryl turns and walks away. "But don't think for one second that we're a bunch of dumb fucks." I scoff. "And weren't you a lawyer 'fore all this?"

"A civil lawyer!" she replies. "It's not my job to observe."

"Oh, sunshine," I say. "You always gotta observe. I wonder how many guilty assholes walked 'cause you didn't observe. You see, Andrea, but you do not observe."

* * *

I sit next to Daryl, leaning my head against his shoulder, as Rick and Shane search the kitchen for any food. I look up at the sound of Shane's voice as he says, "Ransacked the kitchen. All we found was the one can."

"They hit the dispensary, too," Rick tells us, walking in behind Shane. "Tore the door off its hinges. Took everything except this."

He hands a bag down to Lori while Glenn grabs a set of plates from a shelf. Daryl looks up at them, saying, "So you came back with cough drops and…" he tilts his head, reading the can in Shane's hand. "Garbanzo beans?"

"Is there any water?" Sophia inquires.

Shane kneels, digging in his pack, while he passes the beans off to Daryl to open. "Just one bottle I brought," he tells Sophia, handing it to her. "Just a few sips, okay? We've gotta make it last. It's gotta go for everybody."

Sophia nods, thanking Shane with a smile. He takes a seat beside us, reaching into his bag as Andrea asks, "What else you got in there?"

Shane pulls out a snack bag with a grin. "Salty snacks," Glenn guesses.

"Courtesy of the CDC," Shane tells him, tossing one of the bags towards the Korean. "Thought I'd be having midnight snacks in my air conditioned room. Didn't know it'd be dinner."

Daryl looks up as Shane pulls out a bottle of wine, asking, "Is that to share?"

"Seeing as how I owe you my life," Shane replies, passing it over to him. "I'm gonna go ahead and be nice to you from now on."

"I do believe I've earned the first swallow," Daryl says. "But you're only 'live 'cause Clary was with you." The others turn to look at him as he says that, and he ignores their stares, focused on opening the wine. "My main concern was gettin' her out."

"Let's go easy on that stuff," Lori suggests. "Let's not forget where we are."

Daryl shoots me a look, but he says, "Yes, ma'am."

He takes a drink, then passes it over to me. I take a drink out of it as Glenn dishes out garbanzo beans and Shane passes out bags filled with different chips and snacks. Daryl and I share a look as Dale approaches Andrea, knowing that this won't end well after her suicide attempt back at the CDC. "You okay?" Dale asks her, handing her a plate.

"Why wouldn't I be?" she replies. "We're spending a night in a building that smells so badly of rotting bodies I want to vomit up my guts. I'm dining on condiments and hoping I don't get eaten by dead cannibal freaks before dawn. What's not to like?"

At that, Dale gets up and walks out, joining T-Dog on watch. I sit back against the wall, my crossbow on one side and Daryl on the other, and I look up at Rick as Lori gets up to stand beside her husband. "So, what's next?" she questions. "We need to decide."

"Fort Benning, Rick," Shane says. "Still an option."

Rick nods once. "I shoulda listened to you Shane. Would've saved us a lot of grief if I had. Jacqui would still be alive."

"It was her choice, man," Shane replies, looking up at his best friend. "Do not take that on."

"It was her choice," Lori says. "It was her decision to make, not yours. No more than it was with Jim."

"All these people," Glenn says softly. "Who would've done something like this? Just come in here and murder everybody. Even all the old people. How sick is that?"

"Is this something we need to be discussing right now?" Lori scolds.

"He's right," I say, speaking for the first time since I snapped at Andrea earlier. "Who the hell did this?" I glance over at Glenn. "You're damn right it's sick. But hell, that's what the world is, ain't it? Unfair and sick as all hell."

"Clary," Lori snaps. "That's enough."

"Lay off of her, Mom," Carl says, looking up at her. "We're all strung out."

"I'd say get some sleep, then," Shane says. "I'd suggest we all turn in for the night."

He gets to his feet, Rick following him out into the hall. Glenn follows them out, Daryl pulls me to my feet and we follow them out, my brother closing the door behind us. "They're terrified in there," Shane scolds, looking down at Glenn and I.

"Guys, I'm really sorry," Glenn says.

"I'm not," I say. "Grow the fuck up. World ain't sugarcoatin' shit."

"Look, we're all rattled and exhausted," Rick sighs as Daryl takes another drink from the bottle. "No one's thinking clearly. But we have to start. Our lives depend on it."

"You're damn right," Shane agrees. "We can't ever let our guard down again." He sighs, starting for the stairwell where T-Dog and Dale are on watch. "Back at camp, having a fish fry with no one on watch. People died that didn't need to."

Daryl passes the bottle over to T-Dog, a sign of truce, as we gather in a circle. "Fort Benning," Rick says. "That's the consensus."

"Anywhere but here," T-Dog says.

"We're wasting fuel driving so many vehicles," Rick says. "We need to lose a few. We'll siphon the gas out of whatever cars we don't take. It should get us free of the city."

"I'll take Merle's bike," Daryl proposes. "I can get around roadblocks in that the cars can't."

"That'd be a start," Shane agrees. "Let's just try to get some shut eye tonight. T, I'll switch you out in an hour."

T-Dog nods once, and we get up, heading back into the room we chose. Daryl takes a seat in the corner, and I settle down beside him. "Get some sleep, Clars," he tells me. "You haven't slept since the CDC."

I throw my arm across his stomach, resting my head on his chest. "Well, damn, Clary," he remarks. "I hope you're comfy."

I smirk, closing my eyes as I settle down against him. Daryl sighs, but wraps an arm around me. I fall asleep almost right away, hoping, just as Andrea said, that a dead cannibal freak won't kill me before dawn.

* * *

 ** _~Daryl~_**

" _SHIT FUCKING DAMMIT!"_

Those of us awake all jump at the sound of Shane's shout, the light sleepers waking with a start. Clary scrambles for her crossbow, barking, "What the hell's going on?"

Shane runs for the room, his shouts reaching us before he does. " _WE GOT WALKERS!"_

He skids into the room, nearly running into us as we rush to the door. We slam it closed behind him just as the walkers arrive. Dale and Lori wake the others up while Rick, Clary, and I hold the door back. To Shane, Clary barks, "How the hell'd this happen?"

"They all came at once!" he pants, getting to his feet.

"We gotta barricade the door!" Rick barks. "Glenn, Shane, T! Give us a hand!"

The three push what they can against the door, but the walkers still push back. "C'mon, Clary, think," my sister mutters to herself. "Think, you dumbass!"

"The window!" I cry, seeing it across the room. It's big enough for all of us to get out. "Break the window!"

T-Dog grabs a rifle, using the butt of it to smash the glass. He grabs one of the blankets, covering the frame with it to lessen the chance of one of us getting cut on it. "Clary," Carl says, and I notice that he's made his way over to her. "What do you need me to do?"

She turns to him, ordering, "Listen to me. When they break down this door, and they will, you run for it. You hear me? You're not a fighter. You get out."

"C'mon!" Shane yells. "T, you and me, we'll go down first. We'll catch the rest of you."

The group nods, and Shane and T-Dog quickly jump out. "How far down is it?" Rick calls to them.

"About eight feet!" I hear T-Dog reply, and the group quickly starts jumping out. Clary assures me that she's got the door, and I go to help the others get out. "Move your asses!" Clary suddenly yells. "Door's gonna buckle!"

The others climb out much quicker now, and Clary barks to Rick, "Go! Get out!"

Rick nods once, jumping out after Carl. They others all get out, Carol, Sophia, Clary, and I being the only ones left. Clary orders, "Go. I'll hold it as long as I can."

"Clary," I start, but she shakes her head.

"No. Go, Daryl. Get them out."

I look over at the Peletiers, how Sophia clings to her mother, terrified of the idea of jumping out the window. I look back to Clary, knowing that Carol won't be able to jump with Sophia clinging to her like that. One of us will have to go with her. "Soph," Clary says. "Daryl's gonna go with you, okay? He'll take care of you."

I look over at Carol, seeing in her eyes that she trusts me with her daughter. I kneel in front of the little girl, taking her hand in mine. I nod once to Carol, and she turns, jumping out, as I tell Sophia, "It's gonna be okay." I stand, stepping towards the window with her. "It's our turn."

I turn back to look at Clary, just as the walkers break down the door. "Daryl, go!" Clary yells.

She turns, trying her hardest to keep them at bay. I pick up Sophia, jumping out the window in a rush. She lets out a yelp as we fall, and I hit the ground, Sophia on top of me. I struggle to get enough air in my lungs, the wind knocked out of me, and Sophia rolls off, Rick helping her up. "Daryl!" I hear Glenn say, and I blink, looking up at him as he leans over me. "Daryl, hey, you okay?"

"I'm fine," I growl, pushing myself up. Glenn and I stand, looking up at the window, waiting for Clary. Then, we hear it. A single gunshot. "No," I breathe. "No, no no no no. Please, God, no!"

I drop to my knees, staring up, the sound of the walkers nearly deafening. "All you had to do was jump, you fucking idiot," I manage. "You stupid, fucking idiot. You just had to make it to the window. We woulda caught you."

"She was cornered," Glenn guesses, and I don't miss the break in his voice. "It's the only way. But she would've fought her way out."

I sit on my knees in silence, staring up at the window, Glenn by my side. I hear quiet sobs behind me, and turn to see Sophia burying her face in her mother's side, shaking. Carl leans against his mother, completely silent, shocked. I look up at T-Dog as he wipes his eyes on the back of his hand, the others silent in shock. "I thought she'd outlast us all," Glenn says.

There's a collective agreement, and Shane barks, "Dammit, we gotta go!"

Everyone gets up to leave, but I stay on my knees, not ready to go. Dale takes my arm, saying, "C'mon, son. It's time to go."

I follow them silently through the walkers that have arrived, and we all climb into either Carol's Cherokee or the RV. I follow Dale, Glenn, Andrea, and the Grimes' inside the RV, leaving my bike on the opposite side of the RV. I sit in silence throughout the night as we wait for the walkers to pass. I don't know how long it's been, and eventually, I hear Glenn's voice, quiet and soft, speaking, but I don't process what he's saying. I jump as I feel a hand on my arm, and I look up to see Glenn beside me. "Daryl?" he asks. "Daryl, you with me?"

"What?" I ask.

"Dale wants to know if you want to ride in the RV. The walkers are gone. We're gonna leave soon."

"I'm not gonna leave Merle's bike," I say, pushing past him towards the door.

* * *

 ** _~Clary~_**

I lean against Daryl's bike, waiting for him. He walks around the RV, and I grin at him being the first one out of the vehicle. He looks up, freezing when I say, "Took you long enough. Thought I'd be waiting out here all damn day."

"Clary?" he asks, then cries, "Clary!"

He practically sprints over, wrapping me in his arms as soon as he reaches me. "Oh, Clary," Daryl mutters. "I thought you were gone."

"I'm alright." I pull back slightly, looking up at him. "I'm alright, Daryl."

"How?" Glenn asks, and I turn to see the others there, having come out at the sound of my brother's voice. Daryl steps back as Glenn makes his way over, hugging me tightly. His voice breaks as he tells me, "We heard the shot."

"You thought I'd kill myself?" I ask as he pulls back. "Not unless I was bit. I shot a walker that got too close 'fore I could reload."

"What's all the blood?" Rick inquires.

"That?" I look down at myself, realizing exactly how much blood is on me. "Walker fell on top of me. Sliced it open when I was trying to kill it. Got its guts all over me, but it got me out of there in one piece."

Daryl wraps his arms around me again, obviously still in shock that I'm alive. Glenn gives me a small smile, then turns and follows the others away from us. "Daryl," I whisper after a moment. "Hate to break it to you, but I gotta breathe, buddy."

He releases me, looking down at me. "Here," he tells me, pulling one of his shirts from the saddlebags. "You're covered."

I look down at my shirt in disgust, giving a nod. I pull off my shirt, discarding it on the side of the road, then pull Daryl's on over me. He hugs me again before I can finish buttoning it up, saying, "You're such a fucking idiot. I thought you were dead. Both of you within three days."

"Hey," I say, pulling back. "I ain't goin' nowhere."

"Clary, Daryl?" Carl asks, and we turn. "Oh, uh, Clary, your shirt's unbuttoned."

I look down at myself, cursing, and quickly finish buttoning the shirt. Daryl steps slightly in front of me, and I chuckle as he does so. "Shut it," he mutters.

"My dad said we're hitting the road soon," Carl explains. Daryl nods once, and Carl's gaze shifts to me. "Glad you're still kicking, Dixon."

"You and me both, Grimes," I reply, taking a few steps closer. Carl steps forward, closing the gap, and wrapping his arms tightly around me. I stiffen for a second, then wrap my arms around him. "Sorry," Carl mutters, but he doesn't let go of me. "Guess I needed to make sure you were real. That I wasn't dreaming."

"I'm here," I reply. "It's real." I close my eyes, resting my head on his shoulder. "It's all real, Carl. That's the worst part."

"We'll be safe soon," he tells me as we pull apart. "We're gonna make it to Fort Benning."

"Well, then what are we waiting for?" I ask.

Carl grins, wraps me in a quick hug, then runs back to his parents. I start back towards Daryl as he says, "You've got that boy wrapped around your finger."

"Shut the hell up," I say, even though I know that he's right. If I say jump, Carl'll want to know how high. I climb on the motorcycle behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist. He revs the engine, looking at me over his shoulder, at the blood still on my face. He says, "Let's get out of this place."

* * *

 **So I'm back again, and this time, with a bit of a surprise. I was bored one day, so I decided to make a trailer for this fanfiction. Here's the link:** **watch?v=WavhuZSh5Mc**


	2. Chapter 1: Aftermath

_**Chapter 1: Aftermath**_

 _ **~Clary~**_

"Whoa, whoa, Eugene!" I say, jumping aside as he runs past me. "Where's the fire, man?"

"Tara!" he replies.

I immediately take off after him, asking, "Is she okay?"

"She woke up!"

I find myself grinning as Eugene and I skid to a stop at the house, and then I see Glenn sitting across the room, his face splattered with blood. I push past Eugene and Maggie, crying, "Glenn!"

"Clary?" Glenn asks, his eyes growing wide as he takes in the blood on my face. There's worry evident in his voice as he asks, "What the hell happened to you?"

"It's not mine," I tell him, and he breathes a sigh of relief, then places one hand over his left shoulder. "What happened to you?"

"I'm okay," he tells me. "I just caught a ricochet."

"Who?" I demand, looking down at him. "I don't give a shit if it was an accident. Who's the careless idiot?"

Everyone's silent, knowing what I can do, and Nicholas eventually breaks it by saying, "Uh, that'd be me."

I look over at him, and lunge for him, but Glenn and Maggie hold me back, their arms wrapping around me. "You're dead, Nicholas!" I shout at him. "You cowardly son of a bitch! I'll fucking kill you!"

Before I can go on yelling threats and insults at him, Glenn cries out in pain, releasing his hold on me. I look over at him, realizing that I hit his gunshot wound during my fight. My temper, which had flared when I learned he was shot, dies down, and I lean down about an inch so I'm eye level with him, softly asking, "Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine," he says, his eyes still closed from the pain.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, and he winces as I pull aside his shirt collar to look at the wound. It's a graze, but it'll need stitches. "Rose, you got Nicholas?"

"Yeah," she says.

"Maggie, I need peroxide, gauze, needle, and thread," I order. "Glenn, shirt off."

"Give me a hand?" he inquires. I help him pull his shirt off, then wash my hands as Maggie gathers what I ordered.

"I'm gonna warn you right now," I tell him, unscrewing the bottle of peroxide. "This is gonna sting like a bitch."

"I can take it."

"Famous last words," I mutter, then pour the peroxide on his shoulder. Glenn lets out a yell, and I yelp as he hits my arm. Glenn looks up at me as I pull the peroxide away. "Oh, god," Glenn whispers, realizing that he hit my arm. "I'd never do that to you. I'm so sorry."

"It's alright, Glenn," I reply, quiet as well. I hand off the bottle to Maggie, then pick up a piece of gauze, gently dabbing away the peroxide on his shoulder. I prepare the needle, and say, "This is gonna hurt a hell of a lot worse than the peroxide."

"Just do it," Glenn orders, gritting his teeth. At first, he lets out a groan, but he eventually get used to it, letting out the occasional whimper. "One more," I tell him, sliding the needle through his skin the last time. I tie it off, and pull it away, announcing, "Done."

Glenn lets out a breath he was holding, resting his forehead on my shoulder. "That wasn't as bad as I thought it would be," he says.

I wrap my arm around his, sliding my fingers through his hair. "Not that bad, huh? You tough son of a bitch. Stitches fucking hurt."

"Thanks, Clary. And I'm sorry, again."

"Hey, I know that you would never hurt me. So don't even apologize." I kiss his forehead, then release my hold on him. "Daryl just got back. I'm gonna go see him. Stay safe, you dumbass."

He chuckles at that, looking up at me. "Same to you."

I step back, allowing Maggie to take my spot, then turn and leave, running back to the house. I push open the door, calling, "Daryl! You here?"

"Clary?" comes his reply, and I run into the kitchen. He drops his spoon when he sees the blood on my face, scrambling to his feet and running over to me. "Clary?" he asks, taking my face in his hands. "What happened tonight? Are you hurt?"

"I'm alright," I tell him. "It's not mine." I look over his shoulder at Morgan. "But what the hell is he doing here?"

"He saved Aaron and me," my brother answers, pulling me over to the island. I take a seat right beside him, not quite ready to let him out of my sight after that statement. I keep my eyes on Morgan, remembering how he attacked Rick and I back in Kings County. Remembering how unstable he was, how easily he could snap.

Morgan ignores me, turning to look at Rick. "You were right," he says. "It wasn't over."

Rick glances down at the map Morgan used to find us, then back at him. "We should talk more tomorrow." He walks over to Morgan, looking down at him. "Listen. I don't take chances anymore."

"And you shouldn't."

* * *

I stop, looking over at the gate in confusion as I walk past it. The Alexandrian, Holly, is supposed to be on gate duty, but Eugene is. I watch as he pulls open the first part of the gate, looking at a dark skinned man in his twenties through the bars. I wonder over as I hear the new guy say, "My team's been on a run the last couple of weeks."

"Eugene," the fake scientist introduces himself. "Aaron brought myself and my group here directly in that window so we haven't had the chance to meet so I can't exactly confirm your residence."

"Open the gate," he snaps.

"If I do, how do I know you won't attempt to kill me?" Eugene questions.

"'Cause I'm here," I say, announcing my presence as I step up beside him, looking the new guy over. He keeps his dark hair in dreads, pulled back in a ponytail. He looks me over, his eyes showing his curiosity behind his glasses. I pull out my gun, pulling back the barrel to make sure there's a round in the chamber. "You lay a fucking hand on my people, and I will fuck you the fuck up."

"Watch your language," Eugene scolds.

"Go bite a dick."

"Whoa, easy there," the new guy says. "Look, I'm not gonna kill you. But the longer you make me wait, the more you're motivating me to beat your ass, so…"

I holster my gun, laughing at his statement. There have been many, many times I've been motivated to beat Eugene's ass. Eugene unlocks the gate, knowing that while I will defend him from someone trying to kill him, I won't defend him from someone looking to beat his ass. I'll fuck someone up when they're looking to really hurt my people, but if they're just trading hay-makers, I usually won't stop them. We slide the gate open, stepping aside to allow the two people in the car to come through. "I'm Clary, by the way," I tell the new guy. "Clary Dixon."

"Heath," he replies, shaking my hand. "I take it you came with the mullet?" I nod once, and he turns to Eugene. "So Deanna put you on gate duty."

"Oh, no, I'm not proper duty," Eugene tells him. "This is Holly's shift. I was just walking by. She asked if I could relieve her for a few ticks. I said no and she ignored me, which is obviously what I should've done as it's been at least five ticks and still no Holly."

I share a look with Heath, then say, "I'm from Georgia, I'm a Dixon, and I say some weird shit, but I have no idea what you just said."

I turn as a car door opens, the two people inside climbing out. One's a tall dark skinned man, the other a woman a few inches shorter than him. "I'm Scott," the man introduces himself. "This is Annie."

"Hi," she says with a smile. "Good to meet you. How many of you are there?"

"Fourteen," Eugene answers, then stops. "Thirteen."

"I'm sorry."

"I'll close up," Heath says, and I move to help him as Scott and Annie drive off, further into Alexandria. He looks over at me, asking, "Anything big happen while we were gone?"

"You don't know the half of it," I reply, while Eugene says, "We had a meeting last night."

"Oh, yeah? About what?" Heath asks.

"You're gonna wanna talk to Deanna 'bout that," I tell him.

"Yeah," Eugene agrees. "Get it from the horse. Her mouth. You know?"

"No, I don't, but cool," Heath says, turning to walk away.

"Hey, it's good to see someone like me," Eugene calls after him, and he turns to look at him. "I fully respect the hair game."

"Oh, good lord, you have a _mullet_ ," I sigh, walking forward and taking Heath's arm, pulling him with me. "I'll walk you." He looks down at me in confusion, walking with me down the street. "Trust me, Eugene starts talkin', the only way to get him to shut up is to insult the hair or walk away."

Heath chuckles at that. "So, what did happen?"

My grin fades. "Some serious shit went down. Deanna ain't gonna be in charge much longer, I don't think." I catch a glimpse of Rick and Morgan, heading towards the makeshift cemetery behind the walls. I release my hold on Heath's arm, telling him, "You're gonna have to keep goin' yourself. I've got business to take care of."

"Why do I get the feeling your kind of business involves shooting people?" he questions. "Don't shoot people, Dixon."

"It normally does. But not this time." I look over my shoulder at him. "It was nice meetin' you, Skittles."

I leave him looking confused and slightly offended behind me as I follow Rick and Morgan, keeping my footsteps quiet out of habit. Father Gabriel and Tobin, one of the men on the construction crew with Abraham, dig two graves, one for Pete and one for Reg. "What're you doing?" Rick questions.

"We're, uh," Gabriel starts. "I wanted to help."

"We only need one," Rick tells them.

"We have two men here," Tobin says, obviously confused.

"We're not gonna bury killers inside these walls."

"I-I-I understand how you feel. I do. But it's not your decision."

I look over as the boss lady herself arrives, hearing everything. "Tobin," Deanna says, and he stops digging, looking up at her. "Rick's right." She steps past me, looking down at Pete's body. "Take it away. Go west. Down Branton Road a few miles. Just past the bridge. We don't go out that way. Let the trees have him."

Her orders known, Deanna turns and walks away, and Rick looks over at me. "You coming?" he questions, starting over to the body.

"I belong out there," I reply. "But I'm forced in here. Yeah, I'm comin'."

I give Rick and Morgan a hand carrying Pete's body, opening the trunk of a car for them. Rick watches Morgan, who stares down at the body. After a moment, he says, "I shot him because he killed Reg. That was it. We didn't have a choice."

"You do have a cell," Morgan says, referring to the house Rick was kept after his fight with Pete, and where Morgan was told to stay last night.

"Not for killers," Rick replies.

"Aren't we _all_ killers?" I ask grievously. I keep my eyes on Pete in the trunk as I close the lid on him. "In the end, it's kill or be killed." I lift my eyes up, looking at Rick. "Let's get goin'."

Morgan and Rick climb in the front seat, while I sit in the back. I find myself thinking of the time back on the farm, when we went eighteen miles out. I look up at Morgan, wondering if he's going to snap. When we slow to a stop, a few miles out just where Deanna directed us, Morgan's the first one out. Rick and I follow suit, following him down into the woods. He looks around, then nods. They carry Pete's body down, while I follow behind them, carrying the shovels. They drop Pete to the ground, and Rick turns back, taking two shovels from me. He tosses one to Morgan, who had started up to meet us, then he heads back down towards Pete. "Morgan," Rick calls after him, and he turns to look at us. "Maybe we should just leave him."

"That's not who you are," Morgan replies, readjusting his grip on the shovel. "I know."

He turns and continues on, and we follow after him. "Hey," Rick calls after him. "You don't."

Morgan ignores him, dropping his bo staff and bag to the ground beside him. He starts digging, and Rick goes to help him, but I stop him when I hear it. "Rick. Rick, stop."

They both ignore me, continuing with their digging. I put my hand on Rick's arm, forcing him to stop, and he looks up at me. "Do you hear that?" I question.

He listens for a minute, then looks over at me. "How did you hear that? I can barely hear it."

"I never lost touch with what's out here," I reply, starting off towards the sound. Rick and Morgan join behind me, and I slow to a stop at the edge of the cliff. There are even more than what I imagined. "Holy shit."

Hundreds of walkers, at least, are crowded in a quarry, blocked by parked trailers. I turn as I hear walkers snarling from behind us, the snapping branches signalling that someone's running. I recognize it as Ron as Rick takes off first, seeing that he's heading right for the cliff. Morgan and I follow right behind him, just as Rick tackles Ron away, the three walkers closest to Ron falling off the side. Rick raises his gun to fire at a fourth approaching, but I throw my knife, knowing that he doesn't have a silencer on it. The walker falls to the ground, and I start over to retrieve my knife, then take a step back as another approaches. Morgan steps in, hitting it over the head to daze it, then pushes it off the cliff. Rick gets to his feet, while I look down at Ron. "The hell are you doin' here?" I question.

Ron doesn't answer, looking at the knife in my hand. "You stupid bastard," I snap. "You tryin' to get yourself killed? The hell are you doin' out here?"

I back up as he gets to his feet, staring me down. "I wanted to know where my dad was buried."

I look over at Rick, then step back, allowing Ron to step to the edge. Morgan pulls a pair of binoculars out of his bag, looking down at the walkers below. "This is how," Rick says.

"How what?" Morgan questions.

"How Alexandria's still here," I answer, thinking the same thing as Rick.

"They've had walkers at the wall, but a lot of them, maybe most of them, they wound up here," Rick explains. Morgan lifts the binoculars, looking down at the walkers again, and I follow his gaze. It looks like most of the walkers are wandering up to the top of the cliff, where two trailers block the exit. I turn as I hear Rick calling, "Ron."

Ron starts away from us, saying, "I'm going back."

"Hey," I bark, starting after him. I grab his arm, like I took Sasha's on the bridge, making him stop. "You shouldn't be out here."

"She's right," Rick says from right behind me.

Ron pulls his arm free, glaring at us. "I don't care what you think."

"It's not what I think, it's what I know," Rick tells him, pushing me behind him. "You can't protect yourself. I'll show you how, but right now, you have no idea what you're doin'. And if you come out here, you're gonna die. And it won't be quick, and it won't ever be over, 'cause you'll be one of them, and that's what's gonna happen. You're coming back with us, now. Don't make it harder than it has to be."

Rick starts off through the woods, and Morgan follows behind him. Ron and I remain, and I gesture for him to lead the way. "After you, dipshit." He starts off, and I stay right beside him as we make our way back. "You're a real dumb shit, you know that, Weasley?"

"Like I haven't heard that one before," he sighs. "My last name is Anderson."

"I don't give a shit. You got real damn lucky this time. You ain't ready to be out here. If you come out here again, you're gonna die." I slow to a stop as I see Rick digging, and scoff. "You're kiddin', right? It's gonna be dark soon." I gesture with my head in the direction of the cliff. "And we got them to be worried 'bout."

"No, I am not," Rick says, looking up at me. "You came along. Now get a shovel and dig."

I catch the one Morgan tosses to me, then pass it over to Ron. He stares at it, and I say, "I had to dig my brother's grave. Take the damn shovel and dig."

"No," he says, shaking his head. "I-I can't."

"Pussy," I mutter, stepping up beside Rick and digging. "Let's hurry this shit up. No tellin' how much longer till that truck falls."

* * *

Rick called for the meeting, the majority of Alexandrians gathering in Deanna's house as we tell them about the walkers. "My team," Heath says, stepping forward. "We saw it early on. Back when we were on one of those first scouts, finding out what was around here. It was a camp at the bottom. The people, they must've blocked the exits with one of those trucks back when everything was starting to go bad. They didn't make it, they were all roamers. Maybe a dozen of 'em."

"And no one's been back since?" Maggie questions.

"D.C., every time we're scavenging, they've all been in the other direction," Heath says with a shake of his head. "And I never really felt like having a picnic next to the camp that ate itself."

"So all the while the walkers have been drawn by the sound," Michonne states.

"And they're making more sound," I say. "Drawin' more in. They're loud as all hell. It don't surprise me that there's that many of 'em."

"And here we are," Rick sighs. "Now what I'm proposing, I know it sounds risky, but walkers are already slipping through the exits. One of the trucks keeping the walkers in, Clary, you said it yourself. It could go off the edge any day now. Maybe after one more hard rain."

"If we're lucky," I add. "That exit's sendin' 'em east. Every single one of 'em. Right to us. Rick's plan ain't for _if_ it gives. It's for _when_. It's gonna happen."

"That's why we have to do this soon."

"This is..." Carol starts, then pauses. "I don't have another word for it. This is terrifying. All of it. But it doesn't sound like there's any other way."

"And there isn't," I agree.

"Maybe there is," Carter argues. "Couldn't we just build up the weak spots? I could draw up plans. I worked on the wall with Reg. Construction crew. We can try and make it safe."

"Even if we could, the sound of those walkers is drawing more and more everyday," Rick says. "Building up the exits won't change that."

"We're gonna do what Rick says," Deanna says, speaking for the first time since the meeting was called. She doesn't turn to face us, just continues staring out the window. But her seal of approval is the only thing making the Alexandrians agree to this. "The plan he's laid out."

"I told you all, we're gonna have Daryl leadin' 'em away," Rick says.

"Me, too," Sasha says from her spot on the couch beside Maggie. "I'll take a car, right next to him. Can't just be him. I'll keep them coming, Daryl'll keep them from getting sloppy."

"I'll go with her," Abraham volunteers. "It's a long way to white knuckle it solo."

"Alright, we'll have two teams," Rick decides. "One on each side of the forest, helpin' manage this thing. We're gonna have a few people on watch from now on. Rosita, Spencer, and Holly. So they're out. So who's in?"

"I'll take a team, help keep it controlled," I volunteer, stepping forward. I turn to look at Rick. "There's one thing that I know for sure out of all this. I'd ride into the mouth of hell for you."

"To the mouth of hell it is," Rick responds, giving a nod to show that he would do the same. He holds out a hand, and after a moment, I shake it. He trusts me again, but most of all, he treats me as an equal because he knows what I'm capable of. Of how I could lead this team, this group, if he wasn't here. After Terminus, we were allies. Nothing more. Now, he's my brother-in-arms. We stand together to make humanity's counterattack.

"I'll go," Michonne volunteers.

After a quiet conversation with his wife, Glenn says, "I'm in."

"I'd like to help," Gabriel says, raising a hand.

"No," Rick and I snap at the same time. Rick shuts his mouth as I snap at Gabriel, "You lyin' son of a bitch. You can't help with jack shit." I look around at the others. "We need more people. So who else?"

"There's gotta be another play," Carter tries. "We can't just control that many."

"Rick's said it before, walkers herd up," I say. "They'll follow a path if something's drawin' 'em. That's how we can get 'em all at once."

"So we're supposed to just take his word for it? We're all supposed to do what you do, just fall in line behind Rick? After…"

"After what?" Rick challenges.

"After you wave a gun around, screaming, pointing it at people. After you shoot a man in the face. After—"

"Enough!" Deanna barks, turning to face the group, coming to Rick's defense.

"I'll do it," Heath says. "Only if I'm on Clary's team."

I smile softly at that, slightly honored that people, ones from Alexandria, want to follow me. Glenn nods once, meeting my eyes. There we go, the team of three. Others begin to volunteer, and I freeze when I hear Nicholas say, "I'll go."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," I sigh.

"We have to do this, and you need people. I'll go."

I share a look with Glenn, shaking my head at Rick, but the former officer asks Nicholas, "Are you sure you can do it?"

"You need people," Nicholas repeats.

"Alright," Rick says. "We can do this. We'll keep this place safe. Keep our families safe. We will."

"The plan," Carter says. "Go through it again."

"Man, he just said it," Daryl snaps, also getting tired of Carter's shit.

"Every part," Carter demands. "The exact plan. Again."

* * *

I stand with Rick, watching the others as they build up the wall that will keep the walkers from heading back home. I look over as Deanna wanders over to us, and I give her a small smile, glad to see that she's the type of leader that helps instead of sitting back and watching. "I haven't had the chance to say it yet," Rick tells her. "But I'm sorry about Reg. He was smart and kind. He was a good man." Deanna gives a nod to show her thanks. "It was the right call. We need this."

"What else?" Deanna questions, looking up at him after the men working on the wall. "You need to tell me."

"People need to be armed inside the walls," Rick tells her. "They need to be trained, everyone."

"Rick," I say as I hear the twig snap. "Here they come. Let's give 'em a chance to fight, yeah?"

"Carter, heads up," Rick calls, and the former construction man turns towards the woods. Carter and Sturgess, a gardener in Alexandria, drop the log they were carrying, stumbling back as walkers stumble forward. Our people go to help them, but Rick shakes his head. "Use your shovels. The guns will draw more."

"Help us!" Carter begs.

"You can do this," I call. "You need to, all of you."

Sturgess shoves a walker away from him, stumbling backwards towards the other Alexandrians. Seeing that they're unable to fight, Morgan takes off to help them. Rick barks at him not to, but he does anyway. The group follows him, stepping in to help the Alexandrians. Carter shoves a walker away from him, right at me. I fall to the ground, but I push it on its back, plunging my knife into its head. Daryl sends a glare his way, holding down a hand to help me up. I mutter my thanks as he pulls me to my feet, watching Rick staring down Morgan. "You said you don't take chances anymore," Morgan says.

I meet Rick's eyes, sharing the same thought. _How the hell are these people still alive?_ It goes unspoken between us. I look over at Morgan, looking at him and his badass bo staff. "Morgan!" I call, trying to relieve some of the tension, and he turns to me.

"Yeah?" he asks.

"Teach me your Jedi ways!"

He smirks, then chuckles. "Gladly."

Daryl shakes his head, chuckling softly. His grin fades when Carter turns to look at us, my brother growling out, "You put her in danger again, you're gonna regret it."

* * *

I start towards the house when I hear the crash from inside it, knowing that nothing good is going down. Rick, seeing that I've left his side, runs to catch up with me, Daryl and Morgan behind him. From inside, I hear Olivia cry, "Carter, don't! You can't!"

Rick opens the door, and when I see Carter aiming a gun at Eugene, who cowers on the floor, I don't hesitate to aim my gun at him. "What the hell's going on?" Rick questions, stepping inside, staying out of my line of fire.

When Carter doesn't answer, I take a step closer to him, as Rick demands, "What're you doing?"

"I'm taking this place back from you," Carter answers, still not lowering his gun.

Rick turns to look at the others in the storage house. Spencer, Tobin, Francine, and Olivia. He questions, "That's what you were talking about in here?"

"That's what he was talking about," Spencer answers. I take one look at them, and immediately know they're telling the truth. Carter's the only one thinking of that, the others just happened to be here, caught up in it. I slowly make my way over towards Eugene and Carter, moving to put myself between them. Eugene's part of the group, he's family. I don't let my family get shot by a dipshitted hothead.

"You see, the thing you gotta do," I tell them, my eyes back on Carter. "You always gotta set up look outs. But apparently, your leader here is too much of a dumbass to do even that."

"That would've been the smart thing," Rick agrees. "You know, if I happened to—"

He cuts himself off by suddenly attacking Carter, taking the gun and shoving him to the ground. I keep my gun on Carter, now is on his knees at the feet of Rick and I, as my leader aims Carter's own gun at him. "You really think you're gonna take this community from us?" Rick growls. "From Glenn? From Michonne? From Daryl? From Clary? From _me?_ Do you have any _idea_ who _you're talking to?_ "

"It was just me," Carter whispers.

"What?"

"It was just me," Carter repeats, louder this time. "Just-just kill me."

"Gladly," I say, but Daryl moves forward, putting his hand on top of my gun before I can fire. As he pushes my gun down, away from Carter, he says, "Rick."

"I'm good," Rick replies, taking the gun off of Carter. He passes it over to my brother, looking down at Carter. "You can try to work with us. You can try to survive. Would you do that?"

"Tomorrow's the dry run, Carter," I tell him. "Try not to fuck anything up. Heed my every order, and you _might_ survive."


	3. Chapter 2: The Curtain Rises

**_Chapter 2: The Curtain Rises_**

 ** _~Clary~_**

"I know this sounds insane, but this is an insane world," Rick calls out, facing the ones that have signed up to lead the walkers away. "We've got to come for them, before they come for us. It's as simple as that. This is where it all starts tomorrow. Tobin gets in the truck, opens the exit, and we're off. He hops out, catches up with his team at red staying on the west side of the road. Daryl gets on his bike—"

"Rick!" I shout, cutting him off as I see the truck starting to fall. "It's going!"

Rick turns, and we all watch as the cliff underneath the truck gives way, opening the exit that would send them east. "And the curtain rises," I say, stepping backwards towards my team.

"It's open!" Rick shouts, jumping down from his spot on top of a flatbed. "We're doin' this now! Tobin's group, get movin', go!"

"Rick! We're not ready!" Carter protests.

"Sasha! Abe!" I bark.

"Damn straight!" Abe replies as they run to the god awful car they're driving. "We're doin' it live!"

"You meet Daryl at red! Let him take 'em through the gauntlet!"

"We meet at red!" Sasha echoes.

"Go!" I turn to Daryl. "Don't do anything stupid, you hear? Come back to me."

"Same goes for you!" he replies, running for his bike. "Glenn!"

"Rick!" I bark, tossing Glenn, who's moved over to Daryl, his bag. "We're gonna hit the tractor place!" I back up, turning to Heath as Glenn rejoins us. "We've gotta take 'em out there. They'll distract the horde."

Nicholas appears beside us, begging, "I'm here, let me help."

"No," I tell him, shaking my head.

"Let me help!"

"No!"

"We don't have time for this!"

"You do everything we say, you hear me?" I look up at Heath. "Don't go easy on him."

"They're coming!" Daryl calls, though it's nearly drowned out when he revs the motorcycle's engine.

"Rick! This was supposed to be a dry run!" Carter cries, looking at the leader. "We haven't even gone through the whole plan!"

"You want to go back, go back!" Rick barks. "Tobin, hit it on my signal! They're headin' for home! We don't have a choice!"

"Heath! Glenn! With me!" I bark, starting off. We're joined by Scott and Annie's team as we book it, their group breaking off as we head for the tractor place. As we run, I hear Rick's voice on the walkies clipped to both Glenn's belt and mine. He says, "You all have your assignments. You know where to rendezvous. Daryl leads them out. Sasha and Abraham join them at the bottom of the hill. Glenn, you hit us when you take care of the walkers at the tractor place. That's the one thing we gotta get ahead of. Everybody, keep your heads. Just keep up."

As we near the tractor place, I hear Sasha's voice come over the radio. "We're at red at the bottom of the hill."

"Alright, here comes the parade," Daryl replies.

Rick speaks next. "Glenn, Clary, you there yet?"

"Almost," he replies. "But we'll have it handled before they get here. We'll meet you at yellow."

"Copy that," Rick says.

Up ahead, the tractor place comes into view. I look at it, then around at the others as we slow to a stop. "Let's do this."

* * *

 ** _~Rick~_**

Michonne and Morgan follow me as we reach the road at orange, the balloons marking our spot. Over the radio, Sasha states her position, Daryl replying that he's almost there. I take the walkie from my belt, knowing that the tractor place isn't too far from there. "Glenn, you there yet?" I ask.

"Almost," comes his reply. "But we'll have it handled before they get here. We'll meet you at yellow."

"Copy that," I tell him, putting the walkie back on my belt. We look ahead at the cars parked against the steel wall serving as a barricade for the walkers. "It'll hold."

"Well, that's good," Michonne remarks. "Considering where we're standing."

"What'd you do? Pick up some lines from Clary?"

She scoffs at that. "I'll have you know it's all original. But, just maybe, slightly influenced."

"Knew it," I reply with a chuckle.

"Michonne," Morgan starts, glancing over at her.

"Yeah?" she questions.

"Back when you were in that place, where I lived… did you take one of my protein bars?"

I look over at them, trying not to laugh. "No," Michonne answers.

"See, I could've sworn there was one more peanut butter left."

"That's how it is, isn't it?" Michonne asks, while I try not to laugh. I remember Michonne taking a protein bar, eating half and then giving the rest to Clary. I think that was the moment Clary started considering her family, considering her one of us. And she truly is. "You always think there's one more peanut butter left."

Not too far away, I can hear Daryl's motorcycle, nearly drowned out by the snarling of the walkers.

* * *

 ** _~Clary~_**

"Glenn, you have to talk to me," Rick says over the radio, and I take it from my belt. "You have to hurry. The noise could distract them right off the road."

"We're here, Shot the Sheriff," I reply. "Party Poison's team, we've got this. Short Round, Skittles, and I, we're takin' care of it."

"Stop calling me Skittles!" Heath replies as Glenn takes out a walker stuck underneath a tractor.

"You're wasting your breath, buddy," Glenn tells him. "The entire time I've known her, she's called me Short Round. You should feel honored. She gave you a nickname."

"It sounds like there's a lot in there," Nicholas remarks as we step up to the window.

"We need it quiet," I say.

"So what's the plan?" Heath inquires.

"Dude, I just make this shit up as I go along. We're gonna take 'em out, a few at a time. Glenn, you remember—nevermind, you weren't there."

"What?" Glenn inquires as they follow me around the side of the store.

"When we were clearin' the prison. Rick told Tomas to open one door, control the flow of 'em. That's what we gotta do here. Nicholas, you're on the door. Open it, let one or two out, then you close it. You keep doin' that. That's the trick. that's how we control it. Heath—"

"Wait, what if he can't close it?" Heath interrupts.

"Good question. Don't think 'bout that."

"I'll be able to," Nicholas assures us.

"We take them on if he can't," Glenn tells us.

"We take them on?" Heath questions.

"If we get into trouble, we go behind the building into the woods and we draw them away."

"Hey, you've been out on runs since he got here," Nicholas says, jumping to our defense. "They know what they're doing. Me and Aiden, we didn't."

"I don't like it," Heath sighs. "This was supposed to be a dress rehearsal."

"I'm supposed to be delivering pizzas, man," Glenn laughs.

"I didn't belong nowhere before," I say, drawing my knife. "But here, I've made a livin'. I wouldn't call it a livin', but it's what I do best. I belong in this world. Daryl's leadin' 'em this way. They're closin' in. If we don't want everythin' to go to shit, we gotta do this. And we gotta do it now."

"We don't have any other choice," Heath says. "I'll do it."

"We were gonna do it without you, either way," I tell him as Glenn pulls out a crowbar, moving forward to pry open the door. He counts down from three, then pries it open. He jumps back, and we all stand in silence, confused when no walkers appear. Then, I see there's another door, one that we can't open, holding them in. "Oh, shit. Looks like we need a Plan C."

"The hell was Plan B?" Heath inquires.

"Doin' it today. Plan A was doin' everything tomorrow. Glenn, any ideas?"

"Shoot a window out front," he answers. "We're gonna have to take 'em all on, but it's the only other option."

"Good enough," I say, and the others follow me to the front of the store.

"This is a bad idea!" Heath protests.

"It's the only idea."

"I think there's something like a dozen in there," Nicholas says. Look at that, walkers got him shaking in his boots.

"We stay back, we get on opposite ends, we draw each of them to us," Glenn says.

"Try and take down three each?" Nicholas questions.

"No. This is just me, Heath, and Clary. You get back, and you stay back." Glenn passes his walkie over to him. "Things go south, you tell Rick, and you draw 'em away." Nicholas opens his mouth to protest. "Now, Nick."

"Damn, Glenn," I say, drawing my gun. "You act like we ain't took on a dozen before."

"You ready?" Glenn asks.

"No," Heath answers. "But since you're doing this thing anyway, let's do this."

I laugh at that. "That's the shit I like to hear!"

I raise my gun and fire, breaking the window. Three walkers stumble out first, and we easily take them down, backing up a few steps when we realize how close we are. As it turns out, there are easily more than a dozen in there, as Glenn empties his clip, which holds seven rounds, and I count that I fired five shots out of my fifteen round clip so far. Heath drops his gun as a walkers nears him, throwing up his hands to hold it off. I fire, taking it down, covering him until he picks up his gun. He nods once, thanking me, and I notice Nicholas near him, knife out, ready to jump to Heath's aid. We look at each other as the walkers stop coming, then look out at one as it gets to its feet. Nicholas looks to Glenn for approval, who nods once, and he moves forward, dispatching it. "Whoo," I sigh. "Great job, guys. Let's go." As we take off, I speak into the walkie. "Hey, Shot the Sheriff. This is Party Poison. We took care of the walkers. You, Mikasa, and Mace Windu good at orange?"

"We've got it," Rick replies. "We'll meet you at yellow."

"See you there."

As we continue on, I hear Heath behind me asking, "Is she okay?"

"She hit her head once, and I don't think she's been the same since," Glenn replies.

"I can hear you, you know," I say, looking over my shoulder at them with a grin. "Hey, I'm just tryin' to make the best out of a dark as hell situation." I look ahead, seeing the yellow balloons in the distance. "C'mon. We're almost there!"

I whistle, getting Rick's attention as we arrive. Scott and Annie's groups are here as well, the ones stationed on the east side of the road. "It's working," Carter says, watching as the walkers are drawn away by Daryl, Sasha, and Abraham. "You were right."

Carter holds out a hand, which Rick shakes before turning to us. "Everyone, we have to finish this," he says. "We have to keep moving and fan out down that thing, front to back. Like we said, cops at a parade." Rick turns to me. "Clary, you take the back. Your team has walkies." I nod once, waiting to be dismissed. "If it gets sloppy, we fire our weapons, pull 'em back on track."

"I'll hit the front," Carter volunteers.

"Alright, one after the other."

Carter takes off, Rick following behind, and I head towards the back, my team following me, Scott joining us. As we reach the back, I hear Rick over the walkie. "They're breaking up. Tobin, get 'em back on."

"What do you want us to do?" Tobin questions.

"Fire your guns. Get 'em back on track."

In the distance, a few seconds later, gunfire erupts. A few moments later, Rick says, "You got 'em, Tobin."

"Copy that. What was that screaming?"

"That was Carter," Rick answers. "He got bit right in the face. I stopped him."

"Rick killed Carter?" Heath questions, looking over at me.

"He was gonna die anyway," I reply. "Better Rick put him down before—"

I'm cut off as a horn blares in the distance. A way off in the east, and if I had to guess, I'd say it's coming from Alexandria. We all stop in our tracks, looking up at the sound. "What the hell is that?" Glenn asks.

"The plan just got dicked!" I say, seeing the walkers at the back breaking off. I turn and run the way we just came, towards the horn. "With me! That horn's comin' from home!" I grab for the walkie at my belt. "Rick, we got trouble! Back half is breakin' off and headin' back home. They don't know what's comin'!"

"Go!" Rick barks over the walkie. "You get there! You're one of our best fighters! I'm counting on you!"

"Got it," I acknowledge. "I'm sending my team back to you!" I clip the walkie back onto my belt, turning to Glenn as we run. "You're in charge. Shit's goin' down back home and Rick's sendin' me. It sounds like real bad shit, and if I don't make it, well, hell. It was nice knowin' y'all."


	4. Chapter 3: The Battle Begins

_**Chapter 3: The Battle Begins**_

 _ **~Rick~**_

"Tobin, it's not stopping," I order into my walkie as we run, trying to stay ahead of the back half of the herd. "Light it up. You hear me?" All I get is more static. "Tobin!"

Michonne pauses only a second to dispatch a walker before we continue on, one of the younger, even more inexperienced ones of the group crying, "It was half! Jesus, it was more than half!"

"We've just got to stay ahead of them," Annie replies. "They walk, we run!"

Over the radio, I hear Daryl say, "Rick!"

"I'm here," I reply.

"What's goin' on back there?"

"Shit went south, Ghost Rider," Clary's voice answers. "Half broke off. They're headin' back home."

"Clary, you there yet?" I ask.

"Nearly. Give me three minutes, tops."

"Towards you?" Abraham questions.

"We ran ahead," I tell him. "There's a horn or something. Loud, comin' from the east. It's not stopping."

"I'm gonna gas it up, turn back," Daryl says, and I can hear him revving his motorcycle engine over the walkie.

"We have it. You keep going."

"They're gonna need our help."

"I've got this shit, Daryl," Clary replies. "You and the angry kamikazes gotta keep the herd movin'."

"Not if it's goin' down, we don't."

"If the rest of that herd turns around, the bad gets worse. You keep that herd movin'. You hear me? Daryl!"

"Yeah, I heard you," Daryl answers after a moment. As I run, I get the feeling that even though he says he's going to continue, Daryl's going to end up turning back, knowing that his sister's there, fighting whatever's coming. Daryl may be a man of his word, but if his sister's in danger, then any promise he makes means jack shit.

* * *

 ** _~Carol~_**

I look down at Judith through the baby monitor as I set the timer, starting over towards the window. I look out it, watching Shelly Neudermyer smoking. I told her I'd teach her to make pasta if she didn't smoke in the house anymore. Well, I guess smoking outside isn't as bad as inside. It's an improvement, at least. Maybe later, I'll see if I can get her to quit completely.

 _But I'll never get the chance._

I jump back from the window as I see a man appear, wielding a machete, attacking her. She drops to the ground, holding a hand over her bleeding stomach before trying to cover her head as he attacker swings his machete, killing her. I step back, starting for the stairs as I hear the townspeople screaming. Carl's upstairs, and Judith. I meet him as he comes down the steps, a machine gun in his hands. "I saw it from upstairs," Carl says. "They're comin' in from all over."

"You have to stay here and keep Judith safe," I order, drawing my gun. I turn and run out the house, not giving him enough time to argue, because I know that he would. I crouch in the weeds near the lake, watching the attackers through the grass. One drags a man, one of ours, along, chains wrapped around his wrists. Another kneels over a woman, driving his knife into her stomach even though she's already dead. I watch, tilting my head to the side as he uses her blood to draw a W on his forehead. I continue on, cutting through backyards and glancing over my shoulder every few seconds, checking to make sure no one is sneaking up on me. I stop at a house, holstering my gun and drawing my knife, knowing the firing of the weapon would draw more. I hear Erin, a woman I was speaking to barely an hour ago, begging for her life.

I jump into save her, but her attacker swings his knife, slicing her stomach open. I drive my knife into the back of a man who has his face and head covered, and as he drops to his knees, I put it in his head, making sure he won't come back. Erin falls on the steps, and I move over to her, pulling her into my lap as she cries out. I put my hand over her mouth, shushing her. I hold her, knowing how terrified she is as her life bleeds out of her. The first time our group was attacked, I was terrified, too. As Erin grows still in my arms, I plunge my knife into her head, gently laying her body on the ground. If I didn't have motivation to fight these bastards before, I sure as hell do now.

* * *

 ** _~Clary~_**

"Spencer!" I shout, seeing the guard standing by a truck. "Spencer!"

"Clary?" he replies, leaning around debris to look at me. "Over here!"

I skid to a halt by him, putting my hands on my knees as I try to catch my breathe. I was a good two miles away, and I made it here in under fifteen minutes. "Spencer," I pant, looking up at him. "The hell's goin' on?"

"A group, they got inside the walls," Spencer answers. "C'mon, get inside the truck with my mom. You'll be safe there."

"Like hell I will!" I snap, straightening. "I have people that I give a damn about in there! I ain't gonna stand out here doin' nothin' while they're in danger! Now give me a damn boost!"

He kneels, lacing his fingers together and giving me a boost on top of the truck. "Hey, Spence," I say, looking down at him. "Truck woulda took down the gate. Good job."

I only pause for a second, smiling softly at him beaming with pride at the compliment, before climbing up the wall. I swing myself around, climbing down about halfway before dropping. I draw my knife, starting forward, but freeze when I see the carnage before me. The people that I'm too late to save, their bodies have been mutilated by the attackers, arms and legs cut off. I see a shadow out of the corner of my eye, and duck just in time, the knife missing my head by an inch. I punch my attacker in the face, and he stumbles back a few feet. He swings his machete around, glaring at me, and I question, "Am I supposed to be impressed, mate?"

I wait a second for him to get done with his little ego-boosting knife show, then raise my gun, firing once. He drops to the ground, and I move to stand over him, looking down at him. I kneel when I see the W carved in his forehead. _Just like the walkers._

It's then that I come to a grim realization. I always thought that whoever put the W in the walkers forehead did it to mark them as _walkers_ , but now I know. _It stands for Wolves. These are the people that took out Noah's home._

I scramble to my feet, taking off for the house, praying that I get there before the Wolves. I hear static crackle on the walkie at my belt, and I duck into a backyard, keeping my back against one wall and eyes on my surroundings. "Clary?" Daryl questions. "What's goin' on back there?"

"Now really ain't a good time, Daryl," I reply.

"What's goin' on?"

I pause, then answer. "We're under attack."

I can hear him cussing from the other end, then he says, "That's it. I'm comin' to you."

"Daryl! The fuck did I say?"

"I don't give a shit, Cheyenne. Shit's goin' down and you need help."

"I've got it under control. Don't you dare—oh _fuck!"_

I drop the walkie as I see a Wolf come around the edge of the house, blade swinging. I stepside it, kicking his wrist with enough force to make him drop the blade. I jump on his back, plunging my knife into his head. Over the radio, I can hear Daryl calling my name. I scoop the walkie back up, lifting it as I run. "I ran into a bit of trouble. I'm kinda in the middle of fightin' for my life, so I could do without the courtesy calls."

I cut through backyards as I run for our street, for our house. I raise my gun as I see a Wolf chasing Ron, but a gunshot rings out before I can fire. The Wolf drops to the ground, and Ron runs off to the side, away. I lower my gun, watching as Carl steps forward, machine gun raised. "Please don't kill me," I hear the Wolf beg. "Please!"

He begs as Carl steps closer, then grabs the barrel of the gun, struggling for control of it. I take aim, but Carl fires before I can once again. The Wolf releases the gun, falling back with one hand over his shoulder. "Please," he begs, sincere now. "Have mercy."

"An enemy deserves no mercy," Carl says, then fires. While I watched Carl kill yet again, I stopped paying attention to what was going on around me. I let out a yell of surprise when I have to dodge the knife of a Wolf, and he grabs my arm, pulling me closer to him. I struggle against him, and he swings his knife again. I block it with my free arm, struggling for control of the knife. Like a fool, I dropped my gun when he attacked me. "Clary!" I hear Carl cry.

I manage to grab the knife, and just as I drive it into the Wolf's head, a gunshot rings out, a bullet from Carl's gun tearing through his head. Well, one of us killed him. He drops to the ground, and I fall with him. I pull the knife out of his head, then grab my gun, sprinting over to the other teenagers while glancing over my shoulder for any more of the Wolves. Carl lowers his machine gun, pulling me into a one-armed hug. I pull back, and he rests his hand on my shoulder, keeping me close to him. "You alright?" he asks.

I give a nod. "The hell's goin' on?"

"We're under attack," Enid says.

I look around Carl at her. "Yeah, no fucking shit, Sherlock. I figured it was the Wolves. How long's this been goin' on?"

"The horn. That was right after the start," Carl says. "Don't know how many there are. They don't have guns."

"They would've used 'em if they did," I say, glancing around. "Taken this place in a matter of minutes." I look back up at Carl. "Judy's safe, inside?"

"That's the priority." Carl glances around at Enid, Ron, and I. "We gotta get back in. Ron, come inside."

"Hell no," Ron says.

"Ron, I can protect you. We can. Just come inside with us."

"I ain't going anywhere with you," Ron snaps, then storms off.

Carl takes my hand as they start for the door, but the steps are as far as I go. "Clary, what're you doing?" Carl asks, looking down at me from a few steps up. He tugs on my hand. "Come on!"

"I gotta do what I gotta do," I tell him, staying where I am. "You protect the house and Judy, and I got Alexandria. I gotta find the others. It's the only way for us to take it back. We got this."

"Then I'm coming with you," he says.

"No. You gotta protect Judy."

"I can't let you go on your own."

"I'll be fine."

"That's what you said last time, and then went missing for two days."

"I mean it this time."

"Clary?"

"Yeah?"

"Love you, Dixon."

"Ditto, Grimes."

I take off, searching the streets for any Alexandrian still alive. When I see Father Gabriel and Morgan kneeling over someone, I run over to them, looking down at Morgan. "The hell are you doin' here?" I ask.

"Came to tell them that we're doing it today," he answers, looking up at me. "What about you? And where's that blood on your face come from?"

"Why do you think I'm here?" I question. "How the hell do you think I got it? Shit was goin' down, and the merc was sent."

I look down at the Wolf as he opens his eyes, and I ask, "The hell is he still doin' 'live?"

"We're freeing you," he says. "You're trapped. You need to know, people don't belong here anymore."

I cut him off by firing my gun, snapping, "Shut the fuck up."

Then, I see the two holes in his head, turning to look beside me as a Wolf steps up. I aim my gun at them, not giving two shits that they killed the enemy, but more about the fact that they have a gun. "What the hell are you doin' here?" I bark.

The Wolf pulls down the handkerchief covering their face, and I immediately lower my gun when I recognize them. "Carol?"

She nods once, then passes the gun she just fired over to Gabriel, digging a second out of her bag to give to Morgan. "How are you on ammo?" she questions.

"Some would be helpful," I answer, and she hands me a full clip before taking off. I look back over at the two peace loving men, and Morgan hands his gun to Gabriel.

"I'm not very good with guns," Gabriel tells him.

Morgan walks off, while I look at Gabriel. "You know how to fire one?"

"Not exactly," he answers.

I pull him over to a garage, forcing him to stand with his back against the wall. "You stand here like this, the wall covers your back. You see one of those bastards, you aim, squeeze the trigger, and you don't stop until that bastard's on the ground."

* * *

I don't know how, or when, but eventually, it's all over. I walk the streets in silence, putting my knife in the head of anyone that wasn't killed by a knife or gunshot to the head. I look across the street to see Aaron doing the same thing by the storage house, and he takes a seat on the ground. I watch as he pulls a bag out from underneath one of the Wolves, and I take off towards him when I see the look on his face. "Aaron?" I question, kneeling in front of him. "Aaron, hey. What's wrong? It's over."

"My bag," he whispers, looking up at me with tears in his eyes. "I dropped it, back at that place. I lead 'em right here."

"Aaron, no, no, no. Don't say that," I rush, putting my hands on both sides of his face, making him look at me. "Aaron, just stop. Stop, right now. It ain't your fault. Now I said to Glenn that people sayin' that it ain't your fault is shit, but I mean it right now. You dropped your bag 'cause you got attacked. They found it. You had no choice, Aaron. So just stop right there. Blamin' yourself ain't gonna help nothin'."

Aaron closes his eyes, choking back a sob. I pull him into a hug, letting him cry into my shoulder as he wraps his arms around me. "All those people," he whimpers. "They're dead, 'cause of me."

"Aaron," I say softly. "Listen to me, okay? Just listen. It ain't your fault." I pull him to his feet, looking up at him. "C'mon. Let's go find the others."

Aaron walks beside me, silent, as we search for Eric or the rest of my group. I hear Glenn's voice on my belt, looking down as he says, "Rick, it's Glenn. We're in a town five degrees east of the green mile marker. If you get around on Redding in the next twenty minutes, you should be good. I think that's how far we are ahead of the herd. I'm gonna try to set a fire and distract them. If you don't see smoke, they're still coming your way. I got to go. Good luck, dumbass."

I want to smile at Glenn calling Rick the same thing he did when we first met him, but I can't bring myself to. There's something about the way he said it. Glenn's gone on suicide missions before and still made it back, but this time, it just sounds like he doesn't think he's coming back. I stop in my tracks as I think that, hands shaking as I grab for the walkie on my belt. I look up as Aaron places a hand over mine, asking, "Clary, you okay?"

"Glenn's not gonna make it."


	5. Chapter 4: Break in the Storm

_**Chapter 4: Break in the Storm**_

 _ **~Clary~**_

"The town was overrun," Michonne tells Maggie, Rosita, and I, but her eyes stay on Maggie and I. "He split off with Nicholas. He had this idea that if he lit a fire, it would stop the walkers from coming here. I tried to go instead. I wanted to."

Before I can hear her say it, I turn and walk away, joining Deanna on the watch platform right beside the gate. I look out in the direction of the town they were in, closing my eyes as if that'll make the smoke appear. But it doesn't, and the fire isn't lit. I wipe my eyes, trying not to break down at the thought of Glenn out there, probably abandoned by the coward that he was with. The same coward that took the last piece of home, other than Daryl, that I had away from me. After Woodbury, when Michonne said that she knew Sebastian, I had all the hope in the world that he was alive. Sebastian always was a fighter. But he's dead because of a man that the only reason he's alive is because the walls of this community went up in time.

I look over as Deanna rests a hand on my shoulder, staring down at the tag on the wall. _R. Monroe._ "This was the first panel that went up," she tells me. "Reg put it up himself."

"I said it before, Deanna, but I'm so sorry."

She nods once, and it's then that I hear the snarling. "Open the gate!" Rick shouts.

"Oh, shit," I breathe, then turn to look at the survivors on the street. "'chonne, get the gate!"

I climb over the wall, ignoring Deanna's cry of protest, and run to Rick's aid as he trips after shoving a walker out of the way. I cover him as he scrambles to his feet, turning and running with him for the walls, dodging the grabbing hands of walkers. I cry out as one grabs my arm, and he spins, cutting off the walker's arm in a clean chop. Rick's hand takes the place of the dead one on my arm, pulling me with him as we run. As soon as we're through, Michonne slams the gate shut, blocking the horde that followed Rick. Rick and I trip over each other as we try to stop, inside, then fall to the ground in a heap. We take a minute to catch our breath, and Rick asks, "You bit?"

I shake my head as we sit up, but run my hand over my arm anyways. "Let me see," Rick offers. "Just to check."

I look down as Rick checks over my arm, searching for any bite marks. "He didn't make it, did he?" I ask, keeping my voice quiet so Maggie won't hear. "They wouldn't be here if he had."

"Don't say that," Rick tells me, pulling me with him as he gets to his feet. "He's gonna be back." He looks up, around at the Alexandrians that have gathered since the walkers arrived. "You can hear it," he calls out. "Some of you saw it. They got back here, half of them."

"More than half," I correct, looking up at him. "It's enough to surround us twenty deep."

"Look, I know you're scared," Rick tells them. "You haven't seen anything like this. You haven't been through anything like this. But we're safe for now. The panel the truck hits seems intact. It's been reinforced just in case. Either way, the wall's gonna hold together. Can you? The others, they're gonna be back."

"They're gonna be back," Rosita agrees, and I look over at her. She's got Abraham out there, and I've got Daryl and Glenn. _Just Daryl now._

"Daryl, Abraham, Sasha, they have vehicles. They're gonna lead 'em away, just like the others. And Glenn and Nicholas are gonna walk back through the front gate after. They know what they're doing, and we know what we need to do. We keep noise to a minimum. Pull our blinds at night."

"Keep the lights out," I correct again. "We're makin' this place quiet as a graveyard. They might move on that way."

"This place _is_ a graveyard," Francine objects.

"You think that?" I question. "There's still people here, so it ain't yet. Yeah, people died. But that's the world now. That's the vast ocean of shit we're livin' in. This place ain't a graveyard. We fight to the last man, the last woman, the _last child_ , and _then,_ that's when I'll let this place be a graveyard."

"The quarry broke open and those walkers were heading this way," Aaron says, stepping forward. "All of them. The plan that Rick put into place stopped that from happening. He got half of them away." Aaron pauses, looking down for a second, then back up, looking around at the faces near him. "I was out there, recruiting with Daryl. I wanted to try to get into a cannery and scavenge, and Daryl wanted to keep looking for people. We did what I wanted… and we wound up in a trap set by those people."

"Aaron, stop," I tell him, stepping closer to him. I know where this is going, and if there's anyone in the crowd as angry about today as Ron is about Pete, then I'm gonna have to step in and protect Aaron. And I don't want to have to do that, have to kill one of the Alexandrians to protect my family. "Just stop."

"I lost my pack there," Aaron continues, ignoring my warnings. "They must've followed our tracks. Those people who attacked us… they found their way back here because of me."

I step up beside Aaron, hand on my gun, as I glare around at the Alexandrians. "If anyone wants to harm him, go ahead," I call out. "But you'll have to get through me. And I ain't 'bout to let you near him."

"Deanna?" Tobin calls, and I follow his gaze to the leader of Alexandria walking away from the group. "Deanna?"

"Rick," I say, gesturing with a nod of my head towards her, telling him to go after her.

"No," he draws, starting away. "Let her be."

* * *

I look up from my spot counting nine millimeters when I hear footsteps, getting to my feet and turning around. "Maggie?" I question.

She ignores me, getting to work loading a clip. Aaron follows in a moment later, looking at her flashlights she has attached to rebar, the rope tied to them. "The flashlights, the rebar, the rope," he says. "You lower them off the wall, a good distance apart, maybe spin them. That way, the walkers are drawn to each one, and you open up a path. Like Moses parting the Red Sea."

Maggie ignores him as well, and I speak as I realize, "You're gearing up. Now all you have to do is wait for dark." I share a look with Aaron before continuing. "What happens when you twist an ankle jumping down?"

"Or you just get slowed down by one of them and then you have to deal with all of them?" Aaron adds, leaning against the shelf beside her. "I can't let you do this, Maggie."

"You can't stop me," Maggie finally says. "Either of you."

"Who said I was stoppin' you?" I question. "Hell, don't you recognize my speech from Woodbury? 'What happens when one of you's injured, gotta help the other one back?' Still applies, Mag. I'm gonna help you." I glance over at Aaron. "And I get the feelin' this one's gonna do the same."

"I know a safer way out," Aaron replies. "We don't have to wait for dark."

* * *

 _ **~Carl~**_

I watch Ron for a few seconds, watching as he drives his knife into the ground. "Hey," I call, starting towards him. "You okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" he snaps.

"Have you seen Enid?" I question.

"Not since I saw her with you."

"I think she went over the wall just before the herd came, and now she's trapped out there."

"What makes you think she isn't dead?"

"Come on, man," I sigh. Ron looks up at me, scoffing as he gets to his feet. "Look, I'll go find her. I just need your help. If you maybe climb up—"

"I'm not gonna help you, Carl."

"This isn't for me. It's for Enid. Your friend."

"My girlfriend," he corrects. "Or, I mean, she was anyway, right? Till you came along."

"So you want to just leave her out there?" I snap, trying my best to ignore his comment about my friendship with Enid.

"I told her to stop going over the wall. I told her there's bad people out there, and that it's stupid and dangerous."

"Not if you know what you're doing."

"Well, I'm not gonna let you go." I turn around and walk away, realizing that he's more trouble than he is help. "Carl. Carl, you're not going out there."

He grabs my arm, and I turn, shoving him away. As much as I tried to ignore his comment, making it seem like I was ditching Clary the second I saw another girl, I can't, and it's pissing me off. "Back off," I snap.

He puts a hand on my chest, giving me a weak push backwards. I take a step back, avoiding his hand, and I look over at him. "Wow, really? Man, I'm impressed."

Ron starts to throw a punch, and after watching Clary do it many times, I duck his fist, shoving him back away from me. He lands on his back and I turn, walking away, as he calls, "I'll tell your dad."

"I'm terrified," I reply.

"I'll tell your girlfriend. She'll go out there to find you, Rick, too. Then other people will. And then somebody's gonna die." I stop, turning to look at him as he lifts his head to look at me. "You saved my life and now I'm saving yours."

I scoff. "Ron, that ain't a save. Go ahead and tell Clary. She'll come with me anyway."

"Will she?" he asks, sitting up. "I mean, really? With her brother out there, your group, do you think her first concern will be finding your new girlfriend?"

"Hey!" I bark. "Enid's not my girlfriend! She isn't and she never will be!"

Ron chuckles. "Well, look at that. I found what makes you tick. Your girlfriend's an asshole, man."

"You're damn right she is. But she's a fighter, and don't think for one second that she won't kick your ass."

* * *

 ** _~Clary~_**

"I thought you said we weren't going over," Maggie says as Aaron leads us towards the wall.

"We're not," he replies, glancing back at us. "We're going under."

"Ooh, secret tunnels," I say, finally cracking a bit of a grin. "Cool. I'm down."

"No," Aaron says after a moment, shaking his head as he turns to look at me. "I promised Daryl I'd look out for you. I can't let you come."

"You know, either way, I'm gonna go," I tell him. "I'd be safer havin' you watch my back."

Aaron pauses, considering it. Finally, he says, "Stay close. Keep your eyes open." He kneels in front of a grate, attempting to pry open the lock. "This leads to a sewer that was part of an old neighborhood that was here before they built this up. It'll take us under the wall…" I give him a hand lifting the grate up, setting it aside. "And hopefully, past the walkers."

"Thanks," Maggie says, putting her hand on his arm as he stands. "But I'm going on my own from here. And no, Clary, don't come."

"Like hell I'm stayin' behind," I snap.

"Please, Maggie," Aaron begs. "I can't watch more names go up on that wall."

It's that sentence that makes her agree, and we follow Aaron, who insisted on going first, down into the sewers. "If he's alive," Maggie starts.

"If?" Aaron questions, cutting her off.

"He told Michonne he would've found some way to signal us if he got out. If he's alive, he's hurt or trapped, or maybe taken."

"And if that's the case, then we can add another incident to the Glenn Rhee Kidnapping List," I mutter. I'm here because I don't want Maggie to die, I can't lose anyone else. The fire was never lit, there's been no signal, we're surrounded by dead cannibal freaks, and Glenn was with Nicholas. Glenn's gone, but I'm trying to keep on keeping on, like I _know_ he would tell me to. _Don't worry about me, Clary. Take care of yourself first._

"If he's alive, he needs my help. That's why I'm doing this. And if he's dead, I don't want to be waiting on him." Maggie glances over her shoulder, looking at Aaron. "None of this is your fault. You don't have to do this."

"People are dead," Aaron replies. "I was a part of that. And I have to live with that."

"Yeah, people are dead," I say with a shrug. "You're damn right you dropped your pack. But you didn't make the choice to come here, to kill of our people. That was their choice, and 'cause of that, they're all dead. It wasn't your choice." I glance up at Maggie ahead of us, then take his wrist, tugging him along. "C'mon."

We continue on, feet soaked in the water laying on the ground. "I haven't been down here since the beginning," Aaron says, his voice trailing off as he sees the fallen ladder on the ground, covered in muck. "It must've fallen a long time ago."

"Let's try and get it out of here," Maggie says, taking a side. I join her on her side, Aaron taking the other. "On three, ready? One, two, three." We give it a tug, and it hardly moves. "One, two, three." It jerks back this time, hitting Aaron and sending him to the ground. "Aaron!"

He raises his hand, wincing, as he touches the spot where it caught him. "I'm okay," he tells us. "Ladder just caught me. Guys!"

We turn where he's shining his flashlight as a walker lifts its head out of the muck. I step forward, ready to dispatch it, then stumble back when a walker appears behind it, stumbling out towards me. Maggie starts towards me, ready to come to my aid, but a third walker appears, snapping as it goes after her. I draw my knife, putting my hand on the walker's chest to hold it back as I drive it in, but my hand goes right through its stomach. I look down it surprise, and I'm forced back, pinned against a wall by a walker. I glance down, seeing the one on the ground crawling towards Aaron, Maggie pinned a little ways away by the third walker. Looks like she ran into the same trouble I did. The snarling on my left stops, then in front of me as well. I catch a glimpse of Aaron behind it, and he's gone before it hits the ground, running to Maggie's aid. "You okay?" he asks her, pulling his knife out of its head.

"Yeah," she answers, looking up at him. Aaron looks over at me, and I nod once before he can ask. I start forward when I see the blood trickling down the side of his face, getting in Maggie's pack for the medical supplies she took. I take a cloth, gently pressing it against his head to slow the bleeding. "This could need stitches," I tell him. "You should go back."

"No," he says, shaking his head.

"Go," Maggie agrees.

"You two were trapped. I was there for you."

"I could've gotten it."

"Yeah, thanks," I tell him. "But now, go back. I won't have you out there, hurt."

"Lead the way, one of you," he replies, picking up his bag. Maggie and I share a look, and she leads the way. We come to a grate at the end, a door made of the same metal, and behind it, just a few feet away, we can see the walkers. "We're still too close," Maggie says.

"We just have to get through a few of them, and we're gone," Aaron says, starting towards the door.

"No," Maggie argues, shaking her head.

"We can," Aaron replies. "You can stay. We'll go."

"No," Maggie repeats, but he ignores her, trying to open the lock. "No!"

He turns to look at her at that. "Maggie."

"It's over!"

I pull Aaron back as a walker appears, drawn by Maggie's shout. Her voice shakes as she says, "I burned his last picture of me because I said I wasn't gonna need it anymore. Because I was never gonna be away from him again." She pauses, looking at the walkers crowding at the door. "I'm pregnant." I look over at her, not expecting that. _Heh, expecting._ "He didn't want me to go out there and I said yes. And if I would've gone… if I was with him, maybe I coulda helped him. I don't know if he's alive. He would've shown me by now. That's what Michonne said. I just want to see his face."

" _What're you doing?"_

Maggie's head snaps up at the sound of Glenn's voice, turning to look at me. "I've always kept my phone, 'cause I had a video of Sam on it," I tell her, passing it over to her. "But after that trial run, we were hangin' out, and I just started flimin' him doin' stupid shit. Now it's all we have." I look down as Maggie lets out a sob, Aaron wrapping her in a hug as she watches the video. "What happened, that's on me. Everyone we lost. Sam, Sophia, T-Dog, Merle, Hershel, Beth, Ty, Noah. _Glenn._ It's all on me. And I have to carry that. I was sent here, and I told Glenn that he was in charge of our team. If I had stayed, I would've gone with Nicholas. Glenn's dead because of _me._ And I have to carry that."

* * *

"Mind if I come up?" a voice questions from below me.

I look down, seeing Ron standing below the pavilion roof I sit on. I take a drag on my cigarette before asking, "The hell do you want?"

"To come up," he answers. "I thought it was obvious from my question."

"Well, hell, I can't stop you if you want to come up," I reply. He climbs up beside me, sitting with his legs hanging over the edge, mimicking my position. I look down at the cigarette in my hand, at my unscarred, opposite hand. Numb to the world, what's happening, I put the cigarette butt out on my hand. I hardly register the burning, until Ron knocks it out of my hand. "Really?" he asks. "You're burning yourself with a damn cigarette?"

"The hell do you care?" I snap, reaching beside me and taking another from the pack. I hold it out towards him, and he hesitates a moment before taking one.

"Can we call a truce? At least for a few minutes? I know you hate me and I hate you, but after today… Let's just take a break." Ron looks down at the cigarette in his hand, then back up at me. "How do you do this?"

I light my cigarette, then light his, and he mimics my movements with it. He coughs at the smoke, and I smirk. "You either got the stomach for it or you don't, Weasley."

"Shut up," he coughs, putting it out with the heel of his hand on the roof, trying not to burn himself. I sit in silence, staring down at the ground. After a few moments, Ron says, "My mom, she killed someone today."

"Yeah?" I ask, looking over at him. "I got four. It's kill or be killed. Simple enough."

"I know, but I watched her do it. She killed her with a pair of _scissors._ And she just didn't stop _stabbing her_."

"It's always a shock, the first time you kill."

Ron pauses, looking over at me. "How many people have you killed?"

"Twenty-one," I answer. "It was sixteen when I got here. I've killed five people in two weeks. That's what this world is now."

"Is it?" Ron asks.

"Carl, he told me that you asked why I don't let anyone near. I've always been like that. I let down my guard after a while, let myself get close to my group. Back in Georgia, there was this place called Terminus. Promised sanctuary, turned out to be trap full of cannibals. And I don't mean the walkers. About three days before we reached there, this group of people came to a house where Rick, Michonne, Carl , and I were. We killed one of theirs to escape, and they came hunting for us. They were murderers, thieves. Rapists. Daryl, he didn't know what he was getting into. He just needed a group to watch his back while he looked for me after we were separated. He was with them. The night before Terminus, they caught up with us. Two held Michonne and Rick at gunpoint, 'cluding the leader. They were gonna kill Rick. Daryl stopped 'em. Two of the Claimers tried to beat him. I couldn't see that, so I went out and I fought back with him. One of them got me on the ground, put his knife to my throat. He got close, but he didn't. Daryl knocked him off. The other kicked me in the head, gave me a concussion. 'chonne got free, shot the one that kicked me. The one that tried to rape me, Daryl killed him with his bare hands."

Ron's silent, and I rub my right shoulder as a pain shoots through it. "It's gettin' warmer," I say. "Shoulder always starts hurtin' when seasons change."

"Why?" Ron asks.

I hesitate a moment before I realize that if there's anyone aside from Daryl that I can talk to about Will, it'd be Ron. "My dad hit me," I say. "I've got scars. He dislocated my shoulder one time, and it's never been the same since. Weather changes, it starts hurting."

"You, too, huh?" I look over at him, slightly confused. "I can't raise my left arm above my head."

"Your dad?" Ron nods. "When I found out, I wanted to kill him myself. I didn't, obviously, but I wanted to. He was your dad and you loved him, I could tell. That's the difference between us. You loved your dad. I saw mine with his stomach ripped open, guts spilling out. My uncle shot him in the face. Bastard deserved it after all he did to us. You'll understand why Rick did what he did later, Ron. Trust me."

Ron scoffs. "Yeah. That'll be the day."

"No. You're gonna understand it, 'cause you have to. You don't got another choice. You accept what he did, you accept why he did it, or I'll shoot you in the face. It's as simple as that. You haven't seen what really goes on out there. I have. I've been out there since the beginning. A _cop_ tried to kill me. Granted, I never had a real great relationship with the fuzz, but a _goddamn cop._ " I get to my feet. "Rick stabbed me in the back, Ron. But I still follow him, 'cause I don't got another choice. I've accepted what he did to me, but that don't mean I forgive him, it don't mean I trust him. There was a time when I woulda jumped in front of a bullet for him, but if I did it now, it'd just be to save Carl from havin' to lose both parents." I scoff, shaking my head. "I don't know what in the hell made Carl choose me, of all people. I sure as hell don't deserve him. All that I've done, I don't deserve nothin' except bein' dead. People are dead that shouldn't be, and I'm alive."


	6. Chapter 5: Heads Up

_**Chapter 5: Heads Up**_

 _ **~Glenn~**_

 _I lived._

Nicholas is dead, but I _lived._ If I can get back home, I get to be safe again. I get to be with my family again. And after this, I'm not leaving them again. I'm not leaving Rick, I'm not leaving Clary, Michonne, Carol. I'm not leaving Maggie. I can get back home where my family is.

It's these thoughts that keep me sane through the night, staring out at the body of Nicholas, torn apart by the walkers when we fell. He was dead already, killing himself when we were surrounded by the dead. He fell, and he took me with him.

My remaining water runs out sometime in the early morning, long before the sun is up. Walkers still crowd around the dumpster, and by mid-morning, the sun having been up for a few hours, they're all gone. I crawl out from under the dumpster, searching for Nicholas's water bottle. I raise it to my lips, but it's empty. I throw it to the ground in frustration. I'm at least three miles from home, stuck without any ammo, food, or water. _The flare gun._ If I can signal the others, they could come get me. I search for it, pulling aside bodies, and when I do find it, it's broken. I curse under my breath, but I find my gun, bending down to pick it up. "Hey, heads up!" a girl's voice calls from above, and I look up just as a water bottle hits the ground, water spilling out. "I said heads up."

I look up, unable to see most of her features due to the sun, and I don't focus on her voice, only her words. "Clary?" I ask. "I thought you were back at Alexandria."

"She is," she replies. "But guess again, dumbass."

I blink, recognizing the figure now. "Enid?"

She turns and runs off, disappearing from the rooftop. I grab my bag, climbing into the building through a window. I keep my knife out just in case, but I'd imagine that she's already cleared it. "Enid?" I ask. "What're you doing out here?"

"There's another water bottle in the corner," comes her reply. "Take it and go."

I find it where she said it was, taking a few sips. I want to drink more of it, but I stop myself, knowing that it's going to have to last me until I can get back to Alexandria. I look around, seeing the blanket and the opened cans around me. She must be staying here. "You're not gonna answer me?" I ask.

"No," she answers.

I sigh. "What happened in Alexandria?" I get to my feet, starting towards where I heard her voice come from. "We heard that sound. The gunfire. Enid!"

"What happened is what always happens," Enid replies. "People died."

"The herd broke through the walls?"

"What herd?"

"The walkers. They broke out of the quarry early. We got on them, but that sound, the air horn, what was that? Rick sent Clary, but she never told us."

"It was people. You should go."

Above me, boards creak. "My wife, Maggie, she okay?" She doesn't reply. "Enid? Is Maggie okay? Answer me!"

I run upstairs, shouting after Enid, only to find she's not up there. I climb out the window, running out onto the roof, as she runs down the alley away from me. I run back inside, towards the fire escape, and climb down, jumping off about halfway down. I take off after her, watching as she disappears around a corner, down the street. I'm torn between going after her, like Maggie would want me to, and heading on home, saving myself before someone that's not family, like Clary would. I stand there for a minute, torn, before making my decision. I start down the road, going the same way as Enid.

* * *

 ** _~Clary~_**

"Rick!" I call, running after him as I see him walk down the street. "Hey, Rick?"

"Everything okay?" he asks, turning to look at me as I catch up to him. "Clary?"

"Yeah," I tell him, nodding once. "I just needed to talk to you. What're we gonna do about the herd?"

"I'm tryin' to think," he answers, gesturing for me to walk with him. "The walls'll hold. We can think this through. Do it right this time."

"If we can get a partin' in them, I can make a run for it and get a car. Draw 'em away."

Rick shakes his head. "You can't go alone. You need someone to watch your back, to help you. You'll get yourself killed if you go out there alone."

"What does it matter?" I mutter. "Glenn's dead."

"He's not," Rick says, stopping to look down at me. "He's gonna be back."

"We would've gotten some signal by now. Anythin'. Glenn would've found a way to tell us that he's alive if he was." I look up at him. "Glenn's dead, Rick. Accept it." I look down at my hands as I clasp them in front of me. "Y'know, I always thought it'd be Daryl dyin' that would make me stop. But it ain't. Glenn's dead, and I don't know if I can do this any more."

"You have to," Rick says, taking my hands, kneeling to look up at me. "You have to keep going, Clary. We can't do this without you. None of us. We need you. Didn't I once tell you that I'm counting on you?"

I look up at that, his accidental quoting suddenly reminding me of what Glenn told me, the second night after Terminus. "Marco," I whisper. "He was like Marco. And I don't know what happened to him." I close my eyes, falling to my knees in front of Rick. "We're never gonna know. He's dead and we're never gonna know how."

I try to pull away from him as Rick wraps an arm around me, not trusting him enough to, but he wraps his other arm around me, holding me against his chest. "Let me go," I mutter, still trying to free myself.

He shushes me, muttering, "I'm sorry, Clary. I know you thought you were always going to be there to protect him." I let out a sob at that, one that I hadn't realized I had been holding in. "But he's alive. He's going to come back to us. He's going to come back to Maggie. To you."

"The world's tryin' to die, Rick. And it's takin' all of us with it."

"It's not," Rick argues, looking down at me. "It's not trying to die. And it ain't takin' us with it. We're gonna live, Clary, 'cause we fought to. We get the walkers away, and we can fix this place up. We can live here. Our fight can be done."

"The fight ain't over till one of us is dead. Either all of them, or all of us."

"Clary, look at me. C'mon, please, look at me." After a moment, I hesitantly look up at him, and he wipes the tears from my eyes with one hand, smoothing my hair back with the other. "The fight can be over without people, our people, dying."

"Can it, Rick? I mean, can it really? What 'bout the ones out there, the people like the Governor. Do they get to live when this is over?"

"I-I-I don't know. I don't know. Maybe the ones that are too far gone, maybe those are the ones that gotta die. But maybe some people can still come back."

"You can't go back, Rick. The shit that's happened, what we've done, that makes you who you are. Everything that's happened to us, it doesn't just disappear. It's who we are."

"We've just gotta keep our heads," Rick says, pulling me to my feet. "We've gotta keep 'em on our shoulders. Not lose ourselves. And we've gotta keep our heads up, 'cause we're gonna be okay." He pulls me into a one armed hug, kissing my forehead. "I promise, Clary. We're gonna be okay." He releases me, starting off, then turns and looks back at me. "C'mon. Walk with me."

I hesitate for a moment, then join him as we walk through the streets of Alexandria, silent. As we pass the house serving as the hospital, he calls, "Morgan!" I follow his gaze to where the peace lover stands on the porch. "Can we talk now?"

Morgan nods, bids Denise, who stands in the doorway, goodbye, then joins Rick and I as we head back to the house. Rick sends me to get Michonne and Carol, who follow me as we walk back to them. Morgan sits on one side of the table, Carol, Rick, and Michonne on the other. I stand behind them, arms crossed, silent. Morgan looks at them curiously, asking, "What's going on?"

"When I was comin' back," Rick starts, clearing his throat. "I tried to cut off the herd with the RV. Lead the walkers away. But five of those people with the W in their foreheads, the Wolves, they stopped me. They tried to kill me, shot up the RV. Now, Carol says she saw you. That you wouldn't kill those people."

"Did you let any of them go?" Carol questions.

"Yes, I did," Morgan answers. "I didn't want to kill five people I didn't have to kill."

"They burned people alive."

"Yeah." Morgan sits back, turning to Rick. "Why didn't you kill me, Rick, back in King County? Pulled a knife on you. I stabbed you. I nearly killed Clary. So why didn't you kill me? Was it 'cause I saved you after the hospital?"

"'Cause I knew who you were," Rick answers.

"Back there I would have killed you as soon as look at you. And I tried."

I lean forwards between Rick and Michonne, slamming my hand on the table as I lean down, to Morgan's level. "I wouldn't have a single damn problem killin' you on the spot, right now," I bark. "You nearly got my blood killed. More than once. And I don't give a damn that you mighta saved 'em in the past. In the beginnin', no one knew what the hell there were doin'. Everyone tried to save everyone, but you don't get to save people no more. What happened in the early days is worth jack shit. What you do now, that's what matters. I could put a bullet between your eyes and not have a single regret."

"But you won't," Morgan says calmly, looking up at me. "'Cause I was there to help Aaron and Daryl. See, if I wasn't there, if they died, maybe those Wolves wouldn't've been able to come back here."

"What happened yesterday ain't on them! Those people, those Wolves, they came here 'cause they's evil sons of bitches that you let live! It's on _you._ " I pull out my gun, pressing the end of the barrel against Morgan's forehead. "I'd rather kill you as soon as look at you."

"Clary!" Rick barks, the chair scraping the floor as he gets to his feet. "That's enough!"

"Yeah," I agree, moving my finger towards the trigger. "That is enough."

"Clary!" Michonne shouts as I pull it. Morgan squeezes his eyes shut, then slowly opens them when it clicks. He stares up at me as I pull my gun back, releasing the magazine to show them that it's empty. I slide it back in, glaring down at Morgan as I threaten, "You make one more move that nearly kills one of mine, and this won't be empty." I holster my gun, making one more remark before I turn and walk away. "You and your 'all life is precious' shit."

* * *

I look up as I hear the sound of metal scraping, stopping in my tracks as I see Spencer hanging on a wire, trying to cross the space between the wall and the watch tower. "Rick!" I shout, seeing him a few feet away as I run for the watch platform Spencer climbed off of. "Spencer's goin' over the wall!"

Rick's right behind me as I scramble up the ladder, yelling, "Spencer, what the hell are you doin'?"

"Spencer!" Rick calls as we reach the platform. "Spencer! Get back here!"

"Spencer, c'mon, man," I try. "Get back here."

From the next platform over, Tara calls, "Spencer! Spencer, move!"

The grappling hook he tossed across shifts, causing Spencer to drop. He hangs on by his hands, his feet brushing the hands of the walkers. "Spence! Keep goin'!" I bark, as he's more than halfway across. "Go!"

Just as I say that, the rope snaps, and Spencer's falling, swinging back towards the wall. A few walkers are knocked down, and Spencer falls to the ground. I glance over as Tara starts firing her gun, taking down walkers closest to Spencer as he starts climbing. Rick takes the rope, trying to pull him up as Tobin joins us, giving Rick a hand. I climb over the side, balancing myself on one of the support beams, as I follow Tara's lead in firing on the walkers. I look at my gun as I run out of ammo, Spencer still not up the wall. Morgan arrives, and together, the three men haul Spencer up the wall as I holster my gun. I yelp as my footing slips, grabbing for the edge of the wall as I fall, and hear Michonne's cry of my name. My hand misses, and for a moment, I think this is the end, but a hand wraps around my wrist before I can fall to the walkers below. I wince as I slam against the wall, and whoever grabbed my hand huffs, trying to get a better grip. I look up to find Rick leaning over, and I grab his arm as his grip starts to slip. "Don't let go," I whisper.

Rick tightens his grip, then reaches down with his other hand. I let go of the wall, grabbing his hand in the faith that he'll help me. He pulls me up, over the wall, wrapping his arms around me once I'm back on the platform. "I'm not letting go," he promises. "It's alright."

I pull away from him, dropping down beside Spencer in the corner, panting. "Tara!" Rick yells. "You almost died once for these people!"

"What?" she replies.

"What the hell were you doin'?" Rick turns to me. "And you! What the hell were you thinkin'?"

"Hey, Rick!" Tara yells, and he turns as she raises her hand, flipping him off.

Beside me, Spencer says, "Lost a damn shoe. Crap."

I get to my feet, looking down at him. "What the hell was that?"

"I was trying to help. I wanted to get a car, draw them away."

"Have you ever made a climb like that before?" He doesn't reply. "You want to help, don't make us come runnin' to save your ass. You got an idea, you go to Rick."

Spencer looks up at my leader. "Would you have listened to me?" Rick's silent, and that's the only answer Spencer needs. "That's what I thought."

He gets to his feet, ignoring us as he climbs down the ladder. After a moment, I follow him, heading towards the armory to refill my supply of bullets. I knock on the door, leaning inside. "Hey," I say.

Olivia looks up at the sound of my voice. "Hey yourself. What was that gunfire?"

"Spencer being a dumbass," I answer. "Wasted bullets saving his ass."

Olivia shakes her head. "They weren't wasted. You saved Deanna's son."

"And I killed her other one," I reply, stepping inside. "Does that really make up for it?" Olivia looks down, and I ask, "You mind if I head back?"

"Go right ahead," she tells me. "You saved us yesterday. Go ahead back anytime. Just make sure to tell me or write it down when you take something so I can record it."

"Thanks, Olivia," I say, heading into the armory. I pick up the first box I see, creasing my eyebrows in confusion when I don't hear the rattling from inside it. "Olivia!"

She appears a few seconds later, asking, "What is it?"

"The box is empty. You've never left empty boxes lying around."

I toss it over to her, turning and loading my magazine as fast as I can. "What does that mean?" she asks.

I look up at her. "Someone's got ammo that shouldn't. And if I'm right, then my group's fucked."

"Who is it?" Olivia questions as I slide the mag into my gun.

I pull the barrel back, putting a round in the chamber before I holster it, looking up at her. "Ron Anderson."

* * *

"Carl!" I call, running through the streets as I search for my boyfriend. "Carl!"

"Clary?" Carl replies from around the corner. I take off towards the sound of his voice, skidding to a stop near him when I see Ron a few feet behind him. I take Carl's arm, pushing him behind me, as I raise my gun at him. "Dixon, what the hell?" Carl questions, stepping forward to look at me.

"This little bastard's got ammo," I reply, not taking my eyes off Ron. "And he's gunnin' for you 'n' Rick."

Ron raises his hands. "Whoa, hey. I don't have any ammo."

"You lyin' bastard."

"Clary!" Carl cries. "That's enough! If he say he doesn't have ammo, he doesn't have ammo." I still don't lower my gun, and Carl forces my hand down, taking my gun and holstering it. I glare at him, watching Ron out of the corner of my eye. "I said that's enough. You're not going to kill him."

I pull my arm out of his grasp, opening my mouth to tell him off, but he's looking at something over my head. "Clary," he whispers, his eyes still in the sky. "Clary, look."

I slowly turn, staring at the green balloons rising in the sky, in the direction that the signal would come from. "Glenn," I manage.

Carl catches me as I fall back into him, draping my arm around his neck as he wraps an arm around my waist. "He's alive, Clary," Carl murmurs in my ear. "Glenn's alive. C'mon. He'll be at the gate soon. Let's meet him."

I follow numbly beside him as we start towards the gate, but I grab his arm, pulling him to a halt as I hear the wood cracking. I look up at the guard tower, unstable after the truck plowed into it, at the reinforced fence beneath it. "Tobin!" I shout, seeing him beneath it. I start forward, drawing my gun, as the tower sways. "Get the hell outta there!"

Tobin books it, heading away from the tower, as Rick barks for everyone to get back. Carl grabs my arm, pulling me back, and I stumble back with him, keeping my eyes on the wall. The tower falls, and the wall's broken in. We're doing it live, again.


	7. Chapter 6: How it Happens

_**Chapter 6: How It Happens**_

 _ **~Clary~**_

"Oh, my god," I whisper, stepping backwards as the walkers stumble in from outside. "Carl."

"Clary?" Carl asks, taking my arm. "Clary, hey!"

I look up at him, then ask, "Back at the nursing home, you remember what I told you?"

"You told me to run," Carl answers. "Clary, I'm not leaving you."

I turn my back on the walkers, looking up into his eyes, what's always been my favorite feature of his. Bright blue and knowing, seeing right through me before I could see through myself. "Go," I whisper. "Go. I'll find you when it's over. But it's time to fight."

I take off towards Rick, pulling out my gun. I'm cut off from him as the front line of the walkers bulge, and I fire at the ones closest to me before turning and running. In the distance, I can see Carl, joined by Father Gabriel and Ron. Michonne grabs my arm, pulling me away from the front lines, and drags me with her towards Carl, Ron, and Gabriel. "Rick!" Michonne calls, decapitating walkers as we run towards them. Rick helps Deanna along, running for our house. "This way!"

Michonne and I take the lead, Rick, Deanna, and Carl directly behind us, Gabriel and Ron in the rear. We stumble back as walkers cut us off, but gunshots are fired from the nearby porch, and Jessie shouts, "Come on! I have Judith!"

We take off for her house, and she holds the door open, rushing us all inside, and slamming it shut after Michonne, who took the rear to cover us. I step over to the window, watching as walkers fill the streets, taking our home away from us. _No, they're taking their world back. They're taking their land back. This isn't our world anymore._ I step away from the window, keeping my head down as I turn to face them. "This is how it always happens," I say, looking up at them. "How you lose your home, your friends. The people you consider family. And the walkers, they come. And they take back what's theirs. 'Cause this is their world now. We're just livin' in it."

* * *

 ** _~Glenn~_**

Enid and I watch, unable to do anything, as the tower goes down, walkers flooding inside. I close my eyes, trying to think, but I'm too overcome with worry for my group to think of anything. _C'mon, Glenn, what would Clary say? "Turn off your emotions. Don't get attached. And think."_ "The walkers are flooding in from the east wall," I say, watching it. "That means that the west wall will be the first to clear up. That's how we get in." I start over for my bag, but I stop when I see Enid standing still, completely silent. I step towards her, telling her, "Just because the tower's down doesn't mean that…" She looks down, and I move to stand in front of her. "Listen, people are still alive in there."

Enid looks up, out at the wall, and she doesn't look at me. "This is how it happens. And it always happens, Glenn."

"We're still here," I say, leaning down to look in her eyes. "Our friends are still in there, people who care about you. My pregnant wife. My sister."

Enid glances up at me. "You don't have a sister."

"I used to, by blood. But the one I have now, her name is Clary Dixon. And we've gotta get in there to save them." I look down at Enid, seeing her reluctance. "You just want to run away, be afraid, forget about this? Alright, just go. But that's how you lose people. Even after they're gone."

* * *

 ** _~Carol~_**

It's funny, how I came to confront Morgan about who he had locked in the cell, but now, we're the ones locked in here, walkers being our wardens.

I sit in silence, leaning against a wall, one hand on my head as the image of the wall coming down replays in my head. I glance up as Morgan kneels beside me, gesturing to the mark on my forehead from my fall as he says, "Let me take a look at that."

"I'm fine," I reply.

"You don't trust anybody, do you?"

"Some more than others." I chuckle, looking up at him. "But you're dead last."

Morgan snorts in amusement. "Well, at least we're being honest."

He gets up to look out the window at the walkers, and I call after him, "I don't trust you, but I never thought you were lying. That's _why_ I don't trust you. Because you told the truth. You can trust a dishonest man to be dishonest. Honestly, it's the honest ones you have to watch out for. 'Cause you can never predict when they're going to do something incredibly stupid." Morgan glances over his shoulder at me before returning to looking out the window. "How is it out there?"

"They're filling the streets," he answers. I get to my feet, looking downstairs where he must have the prisoner, as I use the wall for support. "Hey, that's probably a concussion. You should sit down before you fall down."

"I am okay," I say, looking up at him.

"Carol," he says, blocking me from going any further. "Whatever we have to settle, it can wait. It has to."

"Okay," I give, leaning back against the wall and sliding down it, waiting for the dizziness from standing to pass. Great. We're stuck in here, surrounded by walkers, probably with one of Morgan's buddies known as the Wolves downstairs with Denise, and I'm out of the fight. Well, isn't this just fantastic.

* * *

 ** _~Clary~_**

"'chonne, take this," I order, handing her a pair of scissors before I tie off the cloth around Deanna's leg. We got her inside, Rick carrying her upstairs into a room, where Michonne and I sit, taking care of the wound on her leg as she presses a cloth to the wound on her side.

"How is she?" comes Rick's voice as he appears in the doorway.

"Well, no offense to Clary or Michonne," Deanna says. "But whatever they're doing, it hurts like a son of a bitch."

"We just finished with her leg," Michonne tells Rick as I move to take the cloth from Deanna. I say, "That seems to be the worst of—"

I freeze as I see what's underneath the cloth, looking up at Alexandria's leader. "Deanna…"

She looks down at the wound marking her for death, saying, "Well… shit."

"Rick," I say, looking up at Deanna's second in command. "She's been bitten." I rest my hand against her forehead. "And the fever's settin' in."

* * *

 ** _~Carl~_**

"We're gonna make it," I say softly from my spot on the stairs beside Clary, taking her hand in mine. "We're gonna make it through today. We have to. Everything that's happened, it's gotta take a turn for the better sometime."

"Or the worse," Clary mutters. "I mean, look at us. We're in a house surrounded by dead cannibal freaks, with a woman about to turn into one, a kid that can't do jack shit, and another that's out for blood."

"Clary, he said he doesn't have any ammo," I repeat. "He doesn't. He's not going to try anything."

She looks over at me. "There's a hell of a lot more ways to kill someone other than with a bullet."

"We're gonna be okay. We're gonna make it." I wrap an arm around her, pulling her close in case I'm wrong, in case we don't all make it through today. In case today is our last day on earth. I release her when I hear footsteps from the first floor, a door opening and closing. "Stay here, Dixon."

"Carl?" she questions, looking up at me as she gets to her feet.

"Stay here," I repeat. "I heard something. I'm gonna go check it out."

"Isn't the first rule of every horror movie ever, 'don't split up?'"

"It's probably nothing, Dixon."

"Go get 'em, Cowboy," she tells me, taking a seat back on the steps. I walk down, heading towards the garage. When I get there, I open the door to find Ron leaning against a tool bench, head in his hands. "Ron?" I question. "You alright, man?"

"Enid's dead," he answers without looking at me. "We're all dead."

"Look, my dad's gonna figure something out. He always does. And if he doesn't, Clary will."

"That's bullshit," Ron snaps, and when he turns to face me, I see his red rimmed eyes. He's been crying, about our situation, about Enid. "Your dad's just gonna get more people killed. 'Cause that's what he does. That's who he is. Your dad's a killer, and your girlfriend is, too."

"So was yours," I say, and he looks down, away from me. "We need to work this out."

"I'm dead, Carl," he replies. "My mom is dead. My brother is."

"No, they're not," I tell him, he walks away from me, towards the door. "We're gonna make it."

I turn to watch him as he locks the door, putting the keys in his back pocket. As he does, I catch a glimpse of the gun tucked under his waistband, and I instantly know that everything that Clary's said about him has been the truth. "Your dad, you're dead, too," he says, turning to face me. "We're all dead."

I shove him against the door just as he pulls out the gun, trying to wrestle it from his hand. He pushes me against a shelf, and when it tips, we both fall to the floor. I look over at him as he grabs a shovel, getting to my feet and backing away. Ron swings it, I duck, and it smashes the glass behind me. Outside the door, I hear Clary shouting our names, joined by Rick and Jessie a few seconds later.

Ron swings the shovel in my direction again, and I'm forced back by the broken window. I try to hold it off, but he pushes back against it, choking me. I try to think, the sound of the walkers' snarls growing louder, and I bring my feet up, kicking Ron away from me. He falls to the ground, and I join him as the walkers appear at the door, their hands grabbing for anything. I scramble to my feet, pushing the shelf against the door in an attempt to hold them off. Ron lays on his back, staring up at them. "Ron, help me!" I bark, as the walkers push the shelf away. "Ron! C'mon!"

"Carl! Get your ass to the door, now!" I hear Clary's shout, and I turn to find her in the garage, Ron out, and the door open. I abandon the shelf, picking up my hat on my way out the door. Clary follows a second later, and Ron, Jessie, and I slam the door just as soon as she's out. It won't close, and I look down to find the lock broken off the door, as the walkers push back against the door. "Dammit, Rick!" Clary says from beside me as she joins us, trying to help close it. "I told you ya shoulda let me pick it!"

"We didn't have time!" my dad replies, and I glance over to see him moving a couch to hold against the door with Father Gabriel's help. "We need more, and we need to be quiet."

"I'll see what I can find," Michonne tells him as Clary, Jessie, and I join him in holding off the walkers. Father Gabriel joins her in the search, and my dad asks, "Hey, what happened in there?"

"We were looking for tools and knocked over a shelf," I lie.

"We heard the yelling," Clary says, and I while I know she doesn't believe me, she'll cover for me.

I look over at her as I say, "Yeah. Ron saw them break through the gates. That's what happened."

"Carl," Ron says, leaning towards us. "There's nightstands in my mom's room. We can brace the couch with them."

"Hey," Jessie says, trying to get her son's attention. "It sounded like you were fighting."

"Yeah, but we were fighting them," Ron lies, starting towards his mother's room.

"Carl?" Clary asks as I go to follow him.

"It's okay," I tell her. I follow Ron into Jessie's room, closing the door behind us. He looks out the window, starting, "Listen, I, uh—"

I raise my gun, cutting him off. "Hand me the gun, grip first."

Ron turns to look at me. "Carl, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, I know. Now give me the gun." Ron hands over the gun, and I take it, tucking it in my jeans. "Look, man, I get it. My dad killed your dad. But you need to know something. Your dad was an asshole."

Ron looks at me, his eyebrows creased, obviously surprised that I'm speaking of his father that way. I continue, "You see, I don't take too kindly to people like him. Men that hit their children. You asked me once why Clary was the way she is. You of all people should know. She spent fourteen years being beaten by her father. Men like your father, I hate every one of them. What your father did to you, to your mom, your brother... I don't understand why you're still sticking up for him."

"The same reason you're sticking up for Rick," Ron replies. "He's my dad."

"Ron, I'm giving you a warning. And it's not only to save my ass, but to save yours. Clary, well, she's pretty damn protective over us. All of us. You saw what she did to Nicholas after what happened with Noah and them. So you try to hurt me, or anyone else in my group, well, you're gonna have to run for your life. Don't underestimate her. It'll be the last thing you ever do."

I turn and pick up one of the nightstands, carrying it out. Ron follows me a moment later, and with Jessie, Clary, and my dad, we stabilize the couch against the door. "Carl, you come with me," Clary orders, stepping away from the door.

"Gladly," I reply, following her. Behind me, Ron mutters, "Boy, she's got you whipped."

Clary and I turn to look at them, and I hold out an arm to stop Clary when she starts forward. "No, I got it," I say.

"Well, be my guest," Clary says with a wave of her hand. I lower my arm, starting towards Ron, but I'm pulled back by my dad, who barks, "Not this shit! Not now, Carl!"

I pull my arm free of Rick's as Jessie pushes Ron back, and Clary points at me, then gestures behind her to Jessie's room. I follow her in, and she closes the door behind me. "What the hell happened in there?" she questions.

"I've got it covered, Dixon," I tell her.

"That's great. But it don't answer my question. Do I need to shoot someone?"

"No," I tell her. "He doesn't have a gun, not anymore. I took it. You were right, Clars. He had ammo, had the gun. And he's out for our blood."

"I don't want to say I told you, Carl, but dammit, I told you. There are two things that I'm exceptionally good at that involves people. Readin' 'em, and killin' 'em."

From the living room, Jessie shouts, "Rick!"

"Shit," Clary breathes, turning towards the door. "What're we facin' now?"

We run out to find that the walkers have broken the board that had closed the window broken from my dad's fight with Pete, and he joins us as we attempt to hold them off. Beside me, Gabriel says, "There's too many of them."

"Everyone, get upstairs, now!" Michonne barks, and I look over to see that they're coming in through the door. Michonne and Clary are the last two up, and she looks at the couch as they pass it. "The couch!" Clary cries, getting an idea. "We'll block the stairs!"

My dad gives Michonne and Clary a hand moving it, taking a step back to look down at the walkers it's holding off. We're completely cornered now, but it's in a corner where Clary thinks best. She's got this. "Guts," Clary says, looking down at the walkers. She pulls out her switchblade, starting towards the closest one. "I got this one. Michonne, get the one behind it. We're gonna need at least two."

* * *

 _ **~Clary~**_

Rick and I drag the second walker upstairs, and I order Carl, "Stay here. You get us if any more start squeezin' through."

We drop the walker beside the first, where Michonne has already gotten ready to tear it open. I order Gabriel, "We're gonna need bedsheets, enough for everyone."

"Bedsheets for what?" Jessie questions.

I look up at Rick. "You wanna tell her? I get the feelin' we're thinkin' on the same page."

"We all go to the armory," Rick explains.

"How?"

"We gut 'em," I answer, reaching around Rick to take his knife.

In depth, Rick explains, "We're gonna cover ourselves with the insides. It'll mask our smell. Make 'em think we're like them."

"Will it work?" Jessie questions.

Rick looks over at me. "We've done it before. We stay calm, we don't draw attention. We can move right through them."

At this point, Gabriel's returned with eight bedsheets, enough for all of us. Someone will have to carry Judith, and Deanna won't make it. Michonne says, "They're in the house, they're making noise. More are coming."

Michonne plunges her sword into one walker, while I work on opening up the other. "Oh, wait, Rick," I say. "Before you get your hands bloody, do me a favor and tie my hair back."

I start gutting the other walker, Rick pulling my hair out of my face before he joins me. I look up as Gabriel wrinkles his nose, watching us. I glance around at Jessie, Ron, and Gabriel, then say, "I'd apologize if you're squeamish, but hell, shit's about to get real." I notice how reluctant they are to accept the plan. "If anyone stays here, they're gonna die."

"What about Deanna?" Gabriel inquires.

"She won't make it," I answer. "She's bit. She might as well be dead already."

* * *

 _ **~Michonne~**_

As I look down at the sleeping Deanna, I find myself wondering why I volunteered to be the one to tell her we're leaving her behind. She gasps as I kneel next to her, waking her up. "What's going on out there?" Deanna questions.

"They're getting in," I answer. "The rest of us, we're gonna have to go. We have no other choice. If you want me to, I'll—"

"No," Deanna objects, cutting me off. "I'm not ready. Not yet. I will be. Soon. And when I am… I'll do it myself." She holds up her gun. "It's my life. Start to finish. _Dolor hic tibi proderit olim._ "

"What does it mean?" I question, remembering that this was written on the plans she gave Rick and I for the expansion.

"'Someday this pain will be useful to you,'" she answers, resting her hand on my cheek the same way Andrea did, in the moments before her death. I take her hand, closing my eyes as I try not to cry, remembering my friend. "Go, Michonne. They need you."

I get to my feet, looking down at her. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For believing."

"I still believe. I cocked it all up, but I figured it out." She reaches up, and I take her hand, gently squeezing it. "What do you want? Now you figure it out."

"I will," I tell her, knowing that once this is all over, I will.

"Good. Give 'em hell, 'chonne."

* * *

 ** _~Clary~_**

It's been a while since I was last covered in guts, and I have to say, the smell isn't as bad as I remember it being. I suppose I've gotten used to it over time. Before everything, you never smelled it. In the beginning, it was all at once, the stench of death. And now, after nearly two years, we've grown accustomed to it. So much so that I can't remember what it was like before the smell of death was everywhere you went, no matter how far you tried to run.

I cover Carl's back, and he returns the favor a few moments later. "I still can't believe you did this in the early days," he says. "And then walked through Atlanta without 'em even noticing you. It's insane.

"Dude, crazy works," I reply, glancing at him over my shoulder. "You're right. We're gonna all make it, 'cause this is gonna work."

"Mom?" I hear Sam ask, and I turn to find him standing in the doorway, finally emerging from his room, looking horrified at the gutted walkers before him.

Jessie gets to her feet, stepping over to her son before kneeling to look him in the eyes. She tells him, "You need to listen to me, okay? We aren't safe here anymore. Okay, we need to do this so that we can be safe out there. We need to look like the monsters."

"No, please, no," Sam begs, his voice shaking with fright.

"Yes, honey, we have to go, okay?" Jessie replies. "We have to, Sam. Honey, just pretend you're brave. Okay? Just make it all pretend. Okay, none of this is real and you're somebody who isn't afraid. Okay?"

Sam nods slightly, while I say, "There ain't nobody who isn't afraid no more. You're lyin' if you say you ain't. And if you aren't, then you're a damn fool. The vast ocean of shit that we're livin' in is as real as it'll ever be. Now, Sam Anderson, you get your ass over here and you get yourself covered in guts, 'cause if you don't, then you're gonna die. And if you're too damn afraid to go, you're gonna get left behind. You won't be outside the walls when they come, oh, no, you'll be in here, too scared to move, to run. You'll scream when they come, but no one will come. 'Cause we gotta live. So the things you call monsters will come, and they'll tear you apart, they'll eat you up, all while you're still alive. While you can still _feel_ it. You're gonna die screamin', but you won't be heard. And then afterwards, no one'll know. Well, we'll have an idea, but you'll be too far gone for us to know if it's you. You'll be just another _monster_ we gotta put down."

"Clary," Jessie snaps, getting to her feet to face me. "Cut it out!"

"No, I don't think I will," I reply, stepping forward to meet her. "You can't pretend no more. The time for kid shit is over. It's been over since the beginnin', but y'all've been livin' the sheltered life. You ain't never had to fight. It's time to grow the fuck up and see the world how it is. You're either dead, or you gotta fight to live. You don't get to be a kid no more."

"Clary," Carl says from behind me, resting his hand on my arm underneath the bloodied sheet. "Clary, I think you scared 'em enough. You gotta chill."

"Hell no. We're in a shit sandwich without the bread. Ain't got time to chill. Shit's how it is, man. We do what we need to do, and then we get to live." I look over at Rick. "Ain't that right, Officer?"

Rick ignores me, holding out a hand towards Sam. "C'mon, let's get you fixed up."

Sam steps towards him, staying as far away from me as he can. Jessie and Rick help him cover himself in guts. I watch the walkers downstairs from the landing, looking up as Rick and Michonne appear. "We need to go," Rick says. "Really soon."

"We're ready," Jessie tells him, her hands on Sam's shoulders. "Ron?"

"Yeah," her oldest son replies, looking down at the walkers as I climb back up with them.

"I'll get Judith," Rick says, starting off.

"Rick," Gabriel says, taking his arm before he can leave. "I'm not gonna give up out there. I will not turn back, no matter what happens."

"Yeah, I know," Rick says, trusting him a bit more and more with each day. I, on the other hand, refuse to. While Rick steps off to go get his daughter, I step up to face Gabriel.

"Promise me," I say, looking up at him. "You swear to me that you won't turn back."

"I swear," he says.

"No matter what happens, you keep fightin' through 'em, Gabriel. That's how we all live. If you see one of your friends go down, you still gotta fight, 'cause that's how you stay alive. That's how you honor the fallen."

"I promise you, Clary," Gabriel says. "I won't give up when we go out there."

"Good," I say. "'Cause I'll shoot you if you do." I sigh softly, stepping back to Carl. "I probably will end up shooting at least one person. Take on a damn herd of walkers. Risk my life multiple times."

"Why?" Carl asks.

"'Cause Daryl isn't here and he's like ninety percent of my impulse control."

"Clary... You don't have any impulse control in the first place."

I pause, wanting to argue, but I find that I can't. He has a very good point. I look over as Rick returns with Judy, and Carl lifts up his sheet to carry her under it in the baby harness they rigged up earlier. "Y'all ready?" I ask, and receive nods. "Alright. Let's kick it in the ass."

I keep my eyes down as we head downstairs, removing the couch. We link hands as we step forward, out onto the porch. I lift my gaze to look around at the walkers that stumble past, ignoring us.

 _It's working._


	8. Chapter 7: No Way Out

_**Chapter 7: No Way Out**_

 _ **~Abraham~**_

"Daryl," Sasha says to our driver, looking at something ahead of us in the road.

"Yeah, I see," Daryl replies.

I look ahead to see a group of guys on motorcycles, stopped in the middle of the road, almost like they're waiting for us. "What in the holy shit?" I question.

Daryl slows to a stop in front of them, the brakes of the fuel truck squealing as he does so. We don't move, staring down at them, waiting for them to make the first move. The guy in front, obviously the one in charge of the group, climbs off his bike, calling up to us, "Why don't you come on out, join us in the road?" It's not a request, it's an order. Still, we hesitate, because we don't know who the hell these people are or what they want. "You know, if you wanna resist, try something, I mean, it's a choice, I guess. But we will end your asses, split you right in two. Straight through to the sinuses. So, come on!"

As Daryl turns the engine off, we climb out, Daryl on one side, Sasha and I on the other. I take a few steps forward, Sasha lingering behind me. "Alright," the leader says. "It's going well right out of the gate. Now, step two. Hand over your weapons."

"Why should we?" Daryl questions.

"Well, they're not yours."

"What?" I say, glaring at him as I stand tall in the military uniform I found.

"You see," the leader starts. "Your weapons, your truck, the fuel in your truck, if you got mints in your glove compartment, if you got porn underneath the seats, change in the seats, hell, the seats themselves, the floor mats, your maps, the little stash of emergency napkins you got there in the console, none of those things are yours anymore."

"Whose are they?" Sasha demands.

"Your property," the leader says, stepping towards us, "now belongs to Negan."

We stand in silence, and I realize that these guys belong to another group, one probably just as large as Alexandria. And this guy, the one that I thought was the leader, isn't in charge of the entire group. He's just in charge of this group of dicks that think they can take our shit. He continues, "And if you can get your hands on a tanker, you're people our person wants to know." He steps forward, heading towards Daryl first. "So, let's get those sidearms, shall we? Right now."

Daryl hesitates, and for a moment, I think he's going to do something incredibly stupid and heroic, and he does, too, but he must think of Clary back home, how he'll only get himself killed if he tries anything. So he hands over his handgun, the only weapon he has aside from his knife. After those pricks he ran into took not only his motorcycle, but his crossbow as well.

The leader of Negan's people takes his gun, thanks him, and moves on to Sasha. She gives him her handgun, looking defeated. As he approaches me, I don't look him in the eye, pretending that he's not even there. I glance down at him as he says, "If you have to eat shit, best not to nibble. Bite, chew, swallow, repeat. It goes quicker."

I give him my gun, knowing that he'll get it eventually. As he turns and walks away, Sasha, questions, "Who are you people?"

"I get the curiosity," he says, glancing over his shoulder to look at her. "But we have questions ourselves. And we'll be the ones asking them while we drive you back to wherever it is you folks call home. Take a gander at where you hang your hats. First, though, your shit. What have you got for us?"

"Yeah, you just took it," Daryl snaps.

"Come on. I mean, can we not, okay? There's more. There's _always_ more." He sighs when we don't answer, turning to address one of his men as he climbs back on his bike. "T, take my man to the back of the truck, start inside the back bumper, work your way to the front." I clench my fists as the man known as T shoves Daryl back, pushing him towards the back of the truck. I look over at Sasha as she clenches her jaw, wondering if she's thinking of taking this fuckers on like I am. "Bite, chew, swallow, repeat."

"Who's Negan?" I question, looking back at his men.

"Ding, dong, hell's bells," the leader sings, aiming one of our guns at me. "You see, usually we introduce ourselves by just popping one of you right off the bat. But you seem like reasonable people. I mean, you're sportin' dress blues, for Christ's sake. And, like I said, we're gonna drive you back to where you were. I mean, do you know how awkward it is carpooling with someone whose friend or friends you've just killed?" He groans. "Oof. But I told you not to ask any questions. And then what does this ginger do? So that's that. I don't want you to get the wrong impression of me."

The hammer clicks as he cocks it, and Sasha cries, "Wait!" She takes a breath. "Wait. You don't have to do this."

As the leader of Negan's posse draws a second gun, aiming it at her, I tell her, "Shut up."

"I am talking to the man," Sasha hisses.

"No, you're not," the leader says. After a moment, he sighs, lowering his guns. "Nah, I'm not gonna kill you. Wait, wait. On second thought, maybe I will."

Before he can even raise his guns, there's an explosion, knocking Sasha and I on our backs. I blink in confusion before I realize, _the rocket launcher._ It was the rocket launcher I found that just saved our asses. Sasha and I slowly sit up, trying to recover from the shock of the explosion. From the other side of the truck, I can hear laughing, and it takes me a long time to realize that the laughter is coming from Daryl. I've seen him grin at something that his sister has said, but never heard him laugh. "Damn, Abe," he says, looking over at us as we stumble over to him. "This thing really works."

We step around to his side of the truck, looking at the body of the man that took Daryl to the back of the truck. "Son of a bitch was tougher than he looked," Daryl says, noticing that we're looking at his body.

"Did he cut you?" Sasha inquires, seeing the blood on our savior's shoulder.

"A little," Daryl replies. "What a bunch of assholes."

Sasha chuckles, holding a rag against his shoulder to slow the bleeding. She claps his shoulder, saying, "Let's get you fixed up at home."

"Yes, ma'am," Daryl replies as she pulls the rag away, opening the door to the truck.

"Wait until Clary hears about this one," Sasha laughs, which causes Daryl to groan.

"Great," he sighs. "Last thing I need from her is a momma cat smackdown. As if she's not gettin' one for the shit she pulled."

Sasha laughs, while I grin. "Talk about an upgrade, Dixon," I say, looking at the rocket launcher still in his hands.

Daryl grins, looking down at it, then nods towards the truck. "C'mon, let's go."

He climbs in, and I follow Sasha around the front, looking down at the bodies of the men that stopped us. To the bodies of the assholes, I say, "Nibble on that."

* * *

 _ **~Clary~**_

Rick stays in the lead as we make our way through the walkers, Carl directly behind him, Michonne and I in the rear, with Father Gabriel and the Andersons scattered between Carl and I. We slowly make our way down the streets, heading towards the armory, while I try to take a count of all the walkers. However, they're too spread out for me to get a good guess on their number. "Rick," I hiss, keeping my voice quiet as I try not to draw attention to us. " _Rick."_

He glances back at me, and I gesture with my head to a space free of walkers near the lake. Rick changes directions, making his way towards it. We break apart, standing in a circle while Michonne and Carl take watch. "We've gotta make a new plan," I whisper. "Flares from a few guns won't be enough. They're too spread out, and I can't count how many there are."

"So the armory's out," Rick agrees. "I've got an idea."

"Let's hear it."

"Spencer said about going across and gettin' a car to lead 'em away. It made me think. We need our vehicles back at the quarry. All of us drive. We'll need to round 'em up. We leave, we come back."

"Okay," Jessie says, the first to agree. She looks towards Carl, at Judy underneath his cloak of insides. "But Judith, to the quarry and back, I…"

"Jessie's right," I agree. "Judy, she can't make that kind of trip. Someone's gonna have to stay behind."

We're all quiet for a moment before Gabriel volunteers, "I'll take her. Keep her safe in my church until you all lead the walkers away."

Michonne turns away from her watchpost to look at the father. "Can you do this?"

"I'm supposed to," he replies, looking at her. "I have to." He turns to Rick. "I will."

"All right," Rick agrees. Judith whimpers as she's passed from Carl to Gabriel, who shushes her as he takes her under his sheet. Before Gabriel can leave, Jessie tells him, "Take Sam."

"No," Sam objects, looking up at his mother.

"Yes, Sam, it'll be safer."

"I'm not leaving you."

"Sam, goddammit!" I snap, facing him. "You'll just slow us down! Go with Gabriel! This time, I have a chance to do the right thing. I've got to get you safe, 'cause I can't watch another Sam get killed by them. So, dammit, _just go_."

"I'm not leaving," he repeats, looking up at his mother. "I can keep going."

"Sam," Jessie starts.

"I can keep going," Sam reiterates. "Please." His mother doesn't say anything. "Please. Let's just go."

Jessie glances up at Rick before she agrees. "Gabriel," I start, but he cuts me off, looking up at Rick.

"I'm going to keep her safe."

"Thank you," Rick whispers. Gabriel nods once before turning and walking back the way we came, heading for his church.

"He's gonna make it," Jessie assures him. "I know it."

"Let's do this," I say, taking Carl's hand in one of mine, and Ron's in the other. Rick takes Sam's hand, who takes Jessie's, who then takes Carl's other hand. Ron keeps his eyes down as he takes Michonne's hand, and we start off again into the herd of dead.

* * *

 ** _~Eugene~_**

"We have to try."

"We cannot go out there, Tara. There are too many of them."

"Rosita, he's gonna kill her."

"We won't get to her!"

"Denise needs us!"

"We'll die. That is what will happen. We have one gun, and the streets are filled with those things. That man with the W, he needs her. Okay? She's a doctor, and he's sick. And I think we've seen that he knows how to survive. But we need to make sure that Carol and Morgan are okay and then we make a plan. We cannot just go."

"Okay," Tara says, sniffling. I sit back on my knees after watching the two women argue, after Rosita's speech about what we need to do. Below me, Carol groans, signalling that she's awake after her fight with Morgan, which allowed the W Man to escape with Denise as his hostage.

"Easy," I tell her, helping her to her feet. Morgan's still unconscious after the W Man hit him with his own bo staff.

"Rosita," Carol says, looking across the room at the younger woman as I hand her the knife she dropped. "I'm gonna need your gun. Gonna do a sweep of the brownstone. I want to see what other surprises are in here."

"Hey, he's waking up," I say, seeing Morgan start to move. Rosita and I kneel by him, helping him sit up. Morgan looks around, then asks, "Where is he? Where's Denise?"

"He took her, didn't he?" Carol questions. Rosita nods slowly, getting to her feet, and Carol sighs, taking her gun as she heads upstairs. I help Morgan up before heading to the window, looking out into the streets. "It seems like there's more," I mutter. "They just keep comin'."

* * *

 ** _~Glenn~_**

I hold the door to the new church open for Enid, closing it as soon as she's through. "Maybe when they searched this place, they missed something," I suggest, starting up the aisle. "Depends if it was Aiden or Heath's group who went through it."

"You think there's anything left?" Enid inquires, checking under seat cushions for anything.

"There's nothing left that isn't hidden," I reply, glancing over my shoulder at her. "Check the Bibles, too. Could've hollowed out the pages."

"Are you serious?"

"We have two bullets. People who holed up here, they're not coming back. But people hide guns, ammo. Maybe something to start a fire." I glance out the window. "It's getting dark out soon. Maybe we can distract them. We need sheets, ropes, towels, anything Maggie can use to climb down the other side." She ignores me, completely silent. "Enid!"

"When I wanted to run," she starts. "You said, 'that's how you lose people, even after they're gone.' What the hell does that mean?"

"People you love, they made you who you are," I answer. "They're still part of you. If you stop being you, that last bit of them that's still around inside, who you are… it's gone."

Enid turns now, facing me. "Who are those people to you?"

"My parents," I answer, thinking of everyone that I loved that I've lost as I start towards her. "A man named Dale. Maggie's father, Hershel. A woman named Andrea. A man named Tyreese." I look down, standing directly in front of her now. "Who are they to you?"

Enid looks down, whispering, "My parents."

I lean down, softly telling her, "Then they're still here, 'cause you're still here."

I wrap an arm around her, pulling her into a hug. "Glenn?" she asks. "Glenn, what the hell? Let go of me."

I release her, but still keep a hand on her shoulder. "Enid, listen," I tell her. "I want you to stay put."

"What?" Enid questions, following me as I head towards the alter.

"I wanted you to come back."

"I can handle myself. You said you wanted help."

I stop walking, turning to face her. "No, I didn't want you to give up on this place, on these people, to be afraid."

"You were right. So I'm here now. And I'm going out there and I'm helping you. We have to get her off that platform. She's hurt. She needs help getting over the wall. I can climb up the gate, you can distract them. We do it together." When I say nothing, she chuckles. "I'm just going to follow you anyway." At that, I chuckle softly, and Enid's eyebrows crease in confusion. "Glenn? What is it?"

"Back in that alley, when I first saw you," I tell her. "I mistook you for Clary. But now, I see that you two aren't so different."

Enid scoffs. "We're nothing alike."

"Yeah. you are," I argue. "You're survivors, and that comes first. Before anything else. You've lived through it all, and you fight to tell the tale."

Enid scoffs again. "Whatever. You keep looking for the Bible Glock, and I'll make Maggie something to climb down."

"Okay," I say, realizing that she's not going to stay behind while I go save my wife. "Let's hurry."

We split off, Enid gathering any cloth or rope while I search anything and everything for the Bible Glock, as she called it. "Hey," I hear Enid call, and I turn to find her holding up a box with a gun inside. "You were right." She hands me the gun, taking her collection of cloths as she heads for the door. "Let's go save Maggie."

"Can't you just stay here?" I call after her.

"Nope," she answers. "Now let's get it done."

* * *

 ** _~Clary~_**

We still have a ways to go before we reach the gate when the sun disappears below the horizon, and as I recount the amount of walkers, I find myself wondering if I just witnessed my last sunset. Carl squeezes my hand tighter for a second, just enough to get my attention. "C'mon," he whispers. "We'll be there soon."

As I look up in his eyes, I wonder how we've gotten this far. How we got here. How I went from a kid that trusted no one except her brothers to the survivor I am now, and how he went from an innocent kid, scared of the dead, to one that walks among them, unfazed. How we're still alive after everything that should've killed us. I wonder how the good people that deserve to live are dead, and the bad ones, the evil ones are, too, but the people that don't deserve to live are still alive. The people around me that's been with me since Georgia, the ones I consider family, they deserve to live, but I don't. Not after all the people I've killed, the people I've gotten killed. Not after the things I've done.

"Clary," Carl whispers. "Hey, you with me?" I nod once. "Alright. C'mon."

We slow to a stop when Sam lets go of Rick's hand, and then Jessie's, backing away from them. "Sam?" Jessie asks, bending down slightly so they're eye level. "Sam? Sam, c'mon. Come on. Sweetheart? Sam?"

"You can do it," Rick tells him, keeping his voice low. "You can do it."

Sam shakes his head, and Jessie adds, "Yes, you can. Come on, Sam. Sam."

"Sam," I hiss. "Sam, we ain't got time for this. We gotta go. C'mon."

"Sam," Ron whispers from beside me. "Sam, you can do this. Just look at Mom."

"Sam, come on," Jessie says. "Sam, honey, I need you to come with me."

He lets out a sob, and I glance around as the walkers stumble towards us, drawn by the noise. "Sam," I hiss, while the others try to get him to continue on. "Sam, shut up. C'mon, man. Be quiet. We gotta keep goin'. It's the only way we all can live."

Just as I say that, walkers grab him, and he lets out an ear-piercing scream as they tear into him, screaming for Jessie. His mother lets out a sob, then a scream as she watches her youngest son be torn apart in front of her. "Oh, Sam," I whisper, and Ron's nails dig into my hand as he tightens his hold, as if that's the only thing keeping him up. "Sam, no, oh, no."

"Jessie," Carl tries. "Jessie, c'mon. Come with us. You have to go. C'mon."

She doesn't scream as the walkers grab her, but when Carl doesn't pull away, doesn't step back towards me, I know that something's horribly wrong. I look around him as he tries to pull his hand free of Jessie's but she has a deadlocked grip on his, her screaming drawing more as the walkers feast on her. "Rick!" I cry, releasing my grip on Ron's hand as I move to help Carl. "Rick!"

"Dad!" Carl cries, his desperation showing in his voice.

"Rick, dammit!" I shout, not caring about the loudness of it. It can't be as loud as Sam's screams. "Get your shit together!"

At that, Rick moves, using the hatchet he carries to chop Jessie's arm off, freeing Carl. Unbalanced, we both fall back, and I scramble to my feet the second I hit the ground. I watch over Carl's shoulder for the walkers coming from that direction, trusting that he's watching my back. I turn as the hammer of a gun clicks to find Ron aiming it between Carl and I, at Rick.

"You."

Before Ron can fire, Michonne steps in, taking the matters into her own hands. Ron's aim shifts to the side as she stabs him through the back, still firing once, but it misses Rick. Ron's body drops to the ground as Michonne steps away, nodding once to Rick. She's got his back, and I turn to look at him, gesturing towards him with my hand. _You good?_ He nods once, and I catch a glimpse of Carl's face as he turns to look at his father. My heart stops as I see the damage, the injury. The bloodied eye socket. He asks, "Dad?"

He drops to the ground, and Rick rushes to his son, as I stare in horror. Ron managed to get the shot in, managed to get his revenge. "Carl," I sob, then turn to look at Ron, who struggles to breathe on the ground. "You son of a bitch!"

I draw my gun, firing three shots. One is in Ron's stomach, the other two in each of his knees. No, I'm not going to kill him. I'm just going to put him through so much pain he'll be begging for the walkers. In the back of my mind, I hear the walkers getting closer, Rick and Michonne begging me to get my shit together and _fuckin' move_ , but I keep firing on Ron, hitting in the right places not to kill him, but it'll hurt like hell, moving closer to him as I do so. Michonne grabs my arm, pulling me back just as the walkers descend on him. I follow directly behind Rick, taking any walker down that tries to get the jump on us from behind. Michonne pushes her way through the crowd, and I try not to look at Carl hanging limp in Rick's arms, just like he did two years ago.

* * *

 ** _~Eugene~_**

I watch Tara from my spot on the ground, as she watches out the window. She turns, starting towards us as she says, "It's thinning out front."

"We need to get out there," Carol says, stepping through the doorway. "Rick's making a stand."

"How's that?" I inquire.

"He's out there fighting them with Michonne, Clary, some others. It's time. Up the alley. I'm going." She rests a hand on Tara's shoulder, making sure she has her attention. "Denise is safe."

"Did you see her?" Tara asks.

"Yeah, she made it to the infirmary. I'm gonna go help Rick."

"I'm going, too," Morgan says, getting to his feet.

"I'm with you," Tara volunteers while Rosita says, "All right, me, too."

"Right behind you," I add, getting to my feet to follow them.

Rosita turns to look at me. "Eugene, you don't have to."

"That's incorrect. I do," I tell her. I'm scared as all hell, but dammit, it's my turn to step up. I might've saved Tara back at that warehouse, but that doesn't make me truly part of this group. So I've gotta get out there and help them. "No one gets to clock out today. And, hell, this is a story people are gonna tell."

* * *

 _ **~Clary~**_

Yet again, we have to turn around, this time ducking through alleys and taking all the shortcuts we can to get to the infirmary. As we reach the porch, Rick takes the lead, Michonne and I covering from behind as the door is opened for him. I slam the door behind us while Denise questions, "This is a gunshot?"

"Handgun, close range," Michonne answers.

"Please save him," Rick begs, laying his son on the gurney Aaron wheeled over. "Please."

I stumble back, frozen as the previous events flash before my eyes, over and over again. I'm dimly aware of Heath beside me, not moving as he takes the sheet off of me, then drops it as I fall back into him. "Clary?" he questions, wrapping an arm around my waist to support me. "Hey, Clary!"

Denise glances up for a second, and I lock eyes with her. "Save him," I manage. "He's all I have."

"Clary?" Heath tries. "Clary, look at me! Are you hurt?"

I slowly shake my head, coming back down to earth a bit more as Heath forces me to speak, asking random, rapid fire questions. Everything from _Harry Potter_ trivia to the twenty-sixth president. I turn as the door opens, thinking someone else is being rushed in, but I find Rick, hatchet in hand, stepping out the open door. "Rick!" Michonne cries, looking as though she wants to go after him, but she's occupied with Carl. "What are you doing? Rick!"

I freeze, torn between going after Rick and staying behind with Carl. Oh, god, what the hell do I do? _Think, Clary, think! What would Carl want you to do?_ I can almost hear his voice as I think, _He'd tell me that he'll be fine, to go after his dad._ "'chonne," I say, starting forward, ignoring Heath's protests. "I'm gonna have to borrow your sword."

"Take it!" she barks, glancing up at me as I step over to them. "I'll find you later, trade you back!"

I squeeze Carl's hand, then take Michonne's katana, turning towards Heath and Aaron, who stand by the window, watching. "He's taking them all on," Aaron says. "We have to go get him."

"What?" Spencer inquires.

"We have to," Heath repeats, glancing over at me as I approach.

"You'll do shit," I reply. "Stay here, don't follow me, and Aaron, open the goddamn door. And that's a fuckin' order."

"You need our help!" Heath cries. "You can't do it yourself!"

"Watch me," I reply. Aaron pulls open the door, and I rush out, taking down any walker within a three foot radius of me. I push forward through the crowd, trying to catch up with Rick. I glance behind me to see Aaron and Heath directly behind me, Spencer a few feet behind them. "The hell are you doin' here?" I bark.

"Givin' you a hand!" Heath barks back. "This is our town! Ain't nobody takin' it, dead or alive!"

"Clary!" I hear Michonne shout, and I spin towards her, taking down a walker beside her. I return her katana, relying now on the hunting knife I took from the armory. We form a circle, our backs to each other as we face the walkers, taking them down as they approach. "Knock 'em down!" I bark. "Drive 'em down! We got this!"

A handful of others, Olivia and Eric included, join the front line, while Rick barks out encouragement to them. "Heath said it best!" I bark, sending a bit of a grin his way as we fight. "This is _our_ town! Let's take it back!"

I look in the direction of Maggie's watchpost, where I saw she was trapped, and I notice it starting to shake as the walkers crowd around it. More and more people join our front lines, and I catch a glimpse of Father Gabriel, who's finally getting his shit together, and Eugene, stepping up yet again, helping to clear the town. "Maggie's in trouble!" I bark. "Keep goin'! I got her!"

I take off, shoving walkers away from me and taking down the ones I can't as I head for the watch tower. "C'mon, you dead sons a bitches!" I scream, making as much noise as I can to draw as many as possible. "C'mon! Come and get me!" I fire on them, hoping it draws more. "I got no one left! Let's see you take me on!"

 _"Clary."_

Even with the walkers growling, I can hear it. I try to shake it off, try to ignore it as I take out the walkers in the rage that had been building since Ron fired the gun. I don't bother with my gun, using my knife and a second one I took to kill walker after walker. "You took everything from me!" I shriek, staring into one's dead eyes as I drive my knife into its head. "Everything I've ever cared about! And it's gone!"

"Clary, get down!" Glenn shouts, and I don't hesitate to duck. A gun fires, and the walker drops to the ground beside me, within arms reach. "C'mon!"

"Go save your wife," I tell him. "I got these."

The next thing I know, he's beside me, taking my arm and pulling me back, facing off against the walkers. I let him take the lead, backing up as every one of them in the area stumbles towards us. "Glenn," I say when my back hits the wall. "What have you done?" I shove a walker back, stabbing a second in the head. "I was ready to die! I'd accepted it!" I take one down that was too close to him, then duck as he shoots one over my head. "But not with you!"

The walkers push back against us, pushing us together and against the wall. Maggie screams, trying to draw them away from us, but they're set on us. Glenn grabs me, pulling me against him, and we duck as there's machine gun fire, taking down the walkers. We look at each other in surprise, both of us having thought that was the end. I look up as Abraham yells, "Can you get the gate? We'd appreciate it, pal!"

"I don't think I've ever been this glad to see that damn ginger," I breathe, knowing that if he's there, Sasha beside him, then so is Daryl. Glenn covers me as I run for the gate, pulling it open as a fuel truck is driven through. Daryl pulls it to a stop beneath Maggie's watchpost, Sasha and Abraham helping her and Enid down while Glenn climbs in the cab with Daryl. "What the hell happened?" Daryl questions.

"I don't know, I just got back," Glenn answers as I climb in beside them.

"Clary?"

"It was the Wolves," I pant. "Tried to get a truck through the gate, Spencer stopped 'em. It went into the tower, tower came down. Walkers got in. And Rick's makin' a stand, right now."

"Listen," Glenn proposes. "We can lead some of 'em away."

"They're scattered," I reply. "It won't work."

"We get 'em all together," Daryl says. "Won't have to lead 'em away."

"What're you gonna do?" I ask. "Lake of Fire or some shit?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"You've gotta be shittin' me," I sigh. Daryl hits the roof of the cab, signalling to the others to hold on, and he backs the truck up to the lake. Glenn and I scramble out, taking out walkers that stumble over and covering Daryl as he pours fuel into the lake. Maggie, Sasha, Enid, and Abraham either join Glenn and I or cover Daryl. He whistles after a few moments, and the others all climb in the cab, while Daryl and I climb on top of the truck. "How do ya wanna do this?" I question, pulling my crossbow off my back. "Flamin' arrow?"

"I was thinkin' rocket launcher," Daryl answers, holding one up.

"What'd y'all do, break into Fort Knox?"

Daryl barks out a laugh, then gestures towards me. "Would you like to do the honors?"

"Ooh, I kinda wanna blow shit up, _but_ it is your rocket launcher," I answer.

"I already blew shit up," Daryl tells me. "Your turn."

"If you insist," I say with a shrug, trading weapons with him. The lake sets on fire the second the grenade hits the water, and Daryl and I stand in silence on top of the truck, watching the fire, and the walkers drawn to it. "It's working."

Daryl wraps his arm around my shoulders before jumping down, handing me my crossbow back after I pull out my switchblade. Daryl draws his knife, and together, we start forward, continuing the counter attack against the dead. We fight, ignoring the blood splattering on our faces, ignoring everything but the dead in front of us. Everything but our target.

* * *

"You missed it, Carl," I whisper to him, gently running my fingers through his hair. "You shoulda seen it. All of us, we were there, fightin' 'em. Together. And Glenn and Daryl, they're back. Daryl showed up with a rocket launcher, you know that? We blew up the lake."

"You saved this place," Rick says, speaking for the first time in a while. He looks up at me. "You and Daryl, you saved this place."

"We never coulda done it without the rest of y'all fightin'. It ain't nothin' special."

"Is that so?" Rick questions, and I nod once. He lays off the subject, and we slip back into silence. After a while, he breaks it, saying, "I was wrong." I look up at him, wondering what he means. "I thought after livin' behind these walls for so long that… maybe they couldn't learn. But today, I saw what they could do. What _we_ could do, if we work together."

I look down at Carl, still unconscious on the bed beside me, as I thread my fingers through his free hand, removing it from where it rests on his chest. "We'll rebuild the walls," Rick continues, and I stay quiet, knowing now that he's speaking to Carl. "We'll expand the walls. There'll be more. There's gotta be more. Everything Deanna was talkin' about is possible. It's all possible. I see that now. When I was out there, with them, when it was over, when I knew we had this place again, I had this feeling. It took me a while to remember what it was." His voice shakes as he continues. "Because I haven't felt it since before I woke up in that hospital bed." Rick rests his hand on Carl's head, his fingers brushing mine as he gently pushes his son's hair out of his face. "I want to show you the new world, Carl. I want to make it a reality for you. Please, Carl… let me show you. Please."

I close my eyes, hanging my head as I silently beg Carl to wake up, to live. For Rick, for Judy, Michonne, Daryl, Glenn, Maggie, for all of us. _For me._ _Please, Carl. Just live. Show me a sign, anything. You don't gotta wake up, not yet. Just show me a sign._

I open my eyes slowly as I feel his hand gripping mine. He holds on tightly, as if he's afraid to let go. "I'm here, Carl," I whisper. "I'm right here. I ain't goin' nowhere." I lean down, pressing my lips to his forehead. "C'mon, please. Open those baby blues for me."


	9. Chapter 8: Law of Averages

_**Chapter 8: Law of Averages**_

 _ **~Clary~**_

I open my eyes as I hear the familiar ball bouncing, something that's been waking me up every morning for the past month. I look over at Carl, who stands, bouncing it against the wall and catching it. I sit up, pulling the sheet up to my chest. "Mornin'," I yawn.

"Mornin'," Carl replies, catching the ball as he turns to look at me. "Did I wake you?"

"You ask me the same thing every day," I answer, the same way I do every day. "Yeah, you did, but I'd sleep in if you didn't."

"You were sleeping good this morning," he says, leaning across the bed to kiss me. "Didn't even wake up the first time I did that."

I smirk. "One more, then."

Carl pulls me to my feet, wrapping an arm around my waist as he pulls me against him. "You've got a run with Daryl and my dad today, yeah?" he questions, and I nod once. He presses his lips to mine. "Then stay safe."

"You got it," I mutter, resting my forehead against his shoulder, not quite ready to pull away from him. "You, too, Cowboy."

"You better get dressed," Carl tells me, releasing his hold on me. "I saw my dad going to get ready a few minutes ago."

"Shit!" I cry, pulling away from him as I look for a pair of jeans and a shirt. "Why the hell didn't you wake me up earlier?"

"You looked too peaceful," Carl says as he goes back to bouncing his ball.

I grab a shirt from the clean pile on the chair, pulling it on as I tell him, "You know what Tara said to me yesterday?"

"What?" Carl questions, glancing over at me.

"She said we're so domestic it makes her sick. Her, of all people! God, like her and Denise aren't worse than we are!"

Carl chuckles, and I listen as music drifts through the house, the familiar Boston song easy recognizable. As it nears its end, I quickly pull on my socks, opening the door as I know what's coming. "Clary, not again," Carl sighs.

"I have to!" I reply. As the intro chords of "I Like That Old Time Rock And Roll" play, I take off, sliding into the doorway of Rick's room, nearly bumping into Michonne. Beside me, Michonne laughs, while Rick groans. I hear Carl's ball bouncing along in time to the music while I sing along. I dance over to Judy, picking her up and swinging her around with me, causing her to giggle. Rick shuts the music off after a minute, but he's grinning at Judith's laughter. "Really?" he questions.

I shrug, and Michonne calls, "Carl!"

"What?" he replies, knowing it's about his bouncing. "Denise says it's PT."

"I can't hear you," Rick calls. "Come out."

"What?" Carl questions, stepping into the hall behind me. Rick says it with him as he says, "Denise says it's PT." Carl pauses, looking at his father. "You heard me."

"It's time to change your bandage," Michonne tells him. "And I'll need to borrow some toothpaste."

"Okay, but I'm out of toothpaste," Carl replies, then turns his attention to me. "Hate to tell you, buddy, but you gotta wear clothes to work. There's a law or something about it." He tosses the tennis ball over to Rick. "Bye, Dad."

"I'll see you later," Rick tells him as I follow Carl out of the room after handing his daughter over. "Hey, Clary. Ten minutes."

"Got it," I reply.

"And put on some damn pants!"

I laugh as I follow Carl back into our room, pulling on my jeans and boots, strapping my gun and its holster to my hip, then my shield to my back. "Hey," I say, glancing up at Carl. "Want me to change that 'fore I go?"

"Yeah, sure," he says, following me into our bathroom. He sits on the counter as I change his bandage, tossing the old one into the garbage can. Carl takes my hand, pulling me towards him. I lean against his knees as he leans down, pressing his lips to mine. Too soon, I hear Daryl calling, "Hey, lovebirds! Get your asses down here!"

"That'd be us," Carl mutters, sliding off the counter. "What does he want?"

"Our ten minutes are probably up," I mutter. "Walk me out?"

"Gladly," Carl replies, taking my hand as we walk downstairs, joining Rick, who holds Judith, and Daryl on the porch. "I take it you're ready."

"Let's do this," Daryl says, tossing me my crossbow.

"Ooh, can I drive?" I ask Rick, seeing he has the keys. "I'm sixteen, you know."

Rick shares a look with Daryl, who sighs and says, "Oh, they grow up so fast."

Rick snorts, tossing me the keys. "Stay safe," Carl calls after us as we start down the stairs, now holding Judith. "And be careful!"

"Always am, never are," I reply, glancing up at him. Daryl takes the passenger seat, while Rick sits in the back, and I climb in the driver's. We start for the gate, where Eugene pulls it open for us. I pull to a stop, watching him as he walks around, pulling a paper out of his pocket as he leans in Daryl's window. "What does the mullet have for us?"

"I mapped out some of the agricultural supply places in the area," Eugene answers. "Even if they've been cleaned out, my bet is that the sorghum would be untouched. Now, that there is a criminally underrated grain that could change the game of our food situation from scary to hunky-dunky." Daryl shares a look with Rick and I. "I'm talkin' standability, drought tolerance, grain-to-stover ratio that is the envy of all corns."

"Thanks," Daryl says after we all recover from Eugene's incomprehensible statements. Eugene nods once, stepping away from the car, and I pull out of Alexandria, not giving Eugene another chance to pelt us with his homegrown Texan speech. As we start off, down a road, Rick says, "Today's the day."

"Yeah?" Daryl questions.

"We're gonna find food, maybe some people. The law of averages has gotta catch up."

"I don't know, Rick," I say, glancing at him in the rearview mirror. "I mean, we ain't seen nobody for weeks."

"Maybe we ain't gonna find nobody," Daryl adds. "Maybe that's a good thing."

Rick leans up between us, reaching for the radio. "Don't," Daryl pleads, seeing him do it. "Please, don't. Not anymore of your country shit. Anything but that."

"Let the man have his music, Chewie," I reply, glancing over at him as Rick hits play. We're immediately greeted by Scorpions, and not any of Rick's country shit.

"Scorpions?" Daryl questions. "Really?"

"Nope, _Rock of Ages,_ baby!" I cry, hearing Julianne Hough's voice instead of the Klaus Meine's. I don't hesitate to jump in, singing along.

" _My body is burning  
_ _It starts to shout  
_ _Desire is coming  
_ _It breaks out loud."_

Rick jumps in, singing Tom Cruise's part.

" _Lust is in cages  
_ _Till the storm breaks loose  
_ _Just have to make it  
_ _With someone I choose!"_

I hit the steering wheel with my hand, matching the drum, and Rick and I both sing the next part.

" _The night is calling  
_ _I have to go!  
_ _The wolf is hungry  
_ _He runs the show  
_ _He's lickin' his lips  
_ _He's ready to win  
_ _On the hunt tonight  
_ _For love at first sting!"_

As Rick sings the "eow!", I hit Daryl's arm, pleading, "C'mon, man!"

Daryl shakes his head, while Rick and I sing, " _Here I am, rock you like a hurricane!"_

" _Are you ready, baby?"_

"Holy shit, Daryl!" I cry, not even knowing that he could hit the high note that puts Axl Rose to shame. We all sing the final lines, grinning at each other as the song ends. "Damn, Daryl! I've been with you practically every second my entire life, and I had no friggin' clue you could go that high!" Daryl shrugs, and I look over at him. "The hell else have you been keepin' a secret from me?"

Rick laughs, and as the next song plays, an Elvis song, I crank up the volume, telling them, "It draws 'em away from home!"

We drive with the windows down, old time rock and roll playing, loud enough to draw the walkers away from Alexandria. After a while, Daryl points out a place that matches up to the map Eugene gave us, and I pull off the road, putting the keys in my pocket as we climb out. I put my crossbow on my shoulder, Rick and I each splitting off to clear a side. "Hey, hold up," Daryl says, and we turn back to him as he stands in a front of the roll up door marked "sorghum", crowbar in hand. "You cover it?"

Rick nods once, raising his gun as Daryl pulls up the door. We start in, Daryl staying a few steps back, but the storage shed is clear, aside from the truck. "We're good," Rick says, then gestures to the truck. "One more time?"

"It ain't locked," I say, stepping towards it. I pass my crossbow back to Daryl, knowing how he misses his, and draw my knife as I undo the latch on the roll up door of the trailer. I lift it up, taking a step back, staring up at the contents in awe. I'm so surprised I drop my knife, which clatters to the ground. "Oh my god."

"Well, how about that?" Rick says as Daryl takes a step up, looking further inside it. "Law of averages."

"Yep," Daryl agrees. I climb up in, taking a few steps forward to see what all is in here.

"Oh my fucking god," I sigh, leaning down at look at a box. I pick it up, looking over at Daryl. "It's a damn pasta maker. Eric's gonna lose his shit." I pull my phone out of my pocket, taking a picture of it to show to him later if I don't get a chance to show him the actual pasta maker. "I can't believe we finally found one."

Behind me, Daryl laughs, nodding his agreement. I grab my bag, throwing a few things for Carl and I inside, including two tubes of toothpaste, as Rick says, "Let's get this thing going, grab our gear, and come back for the car later. Take another way back. See what we can see." Rick scoffs as Daryl pulls the truck door closed. "Sorghum."

* * *

Just as Rick said, the truck started. He drives, while Daryl rides shotgun, and I sit in the space between them, my bag at my feet. I look over at Rick at he pulls into a gas station, and I ask, "You think there's still gas here?"

"Dunno, maybe," he replies. "I was thinkin' of looking for food, any water."

Daryl climbs out first, holding the door open for me as I jump out, shutting it after me. "Well, aren't you a gentleman?" I chuckle, looking over at him.

He offers a mock bow. "M'lady."

I scoff, following him over to the store. I step up to the door, peering inside before trying the handle. It's locked, and the place has already been cleaned out. "Yo, give me a hand with this," Daryl says, and I look over to find him standing over a vending machine on its side. Rick and I share a look, then walk over to him. "Let's flip it over."

We push against it, trying to turn it over, but it's way too heavy. It drops back down, and Rick remarks, "I don't think we got it."

"Wow," I sigh. "Really?"

I watch Daryl as he walks around the other side of the vending machine, studying it for a moment before he looks at the truck. He turns back to Rick and I, saying, "I think I got an idea."

"What?" I ask, jumping over the machine to join him.

"These chains," he says, gesturing down to them with his crowbar. "Hook 'em up to the truck, turn it over."

"Alright," Rick says with a nod. "Sounds good to me."

While Rick goes to back the truck up, I give Daryl a hand securing the chains. "So," I start. "What'd Denise want soda for?"

"Huh?" he asks, looking up at me.

"I saw the list she gave you. What's she want it for? There was a line."

"Tara," Daryl answers. "Her and Heath are goin' on that two week run, Denise wants to give her a going away present."

"Aww," I say as he locks the chains together. "That still doesn't make up for Tara saying Carl and I are so domestic it makes her sick. Those two are just as bad."

Daryl barks out a laugh. "Yeah, right! Those two aren't nearly as bad as you and Grimes Junior! The first week after he left Denise's, you wouldn't let him out of your sight." I pause, looking up at him. "Oh my god. Clary! Stop!" I try not to laugh, knowing I probably shouldn't, but I can't stop myself. "I didn't mean to say that!"

"Hey!" Rick calls from the truck. "You ready?"

Daryl nods, and I hook up the chains to the hitch, rejoining Daryl as he waves Rick on. He gestures for him to stop when it turns over, and Rick gets out, joining us as we look down at it. "It's soda and candy," Rick says as he stops beside me. "Why the trouble?"

"It wasn't any trouble," Daryl argues, and I let out a gasp when someone slams into me from behind. I shake off my shock when I hear Rick cocking his gun beside me, aiming my gun around my shield as I study the man that slammed into us. He raises his hands, his face hidden behind a handkerchief. "Hi," he says.

I step closer to him, studying him. His long, dirty-blonde hair is relatively clean underneath his beanie, and his green eyes looking around at us, studying us. Daryl grabs my arm, pulling me back, as he barks, "Back up! Now!"

"Keep 'em up!" I bark as he starts to lower his hands. I back up until my back is nearly pressing against Daryl, using my shield to cover the both of us. He shifts to aim over the shield, covering the right side while I take the left.

"Whoa, easy, guys, miss," he says. "I was just running from the dead."

"How many?" Daryl questions as Rick backs up to look at the direction the newcomer name from.

"Ten, maybe more," he answers. "I'm not risking it. Once it gets to double digits, I start running."

"Good enough of a system to stay alive," I remark. "Where?"

"About a half a mile back. They're headed this way. You probably have about eleven minutes."

"Okay," Rick says. "Thanks for letting us know."

I glance over at him as he lowers his gun, and I ask, "The hell, man?"

"There's more of them than us, right?" the new guy questions. "Not a problem. We gotta stick together." I'm hesitant to lower my gun, but this guy seems honest enough, so I do, but I still keep my shield up to protect my brother. He looks over at Daryl over my shoulder, who has yet to lower his. "Right?"

"Daryl," I whisper, and he lowers his gun.

"You have a camp?" he asks.

"No," Daryl answers.

"Do you?" I question.

"No," the newcomer answers. He gestures over to Rick and I. "Sorry for running into you." He turns to leave. "I'm gonna go now. If this is the next world, I hope it's good to you guys."

"I'm Rick," our leader answers. "This is Daryl, his sister, Clary. What's your name?"

"Paul Rovia," he answers, turning to look at us as he pulls his mask down. _Dude looks like Jesus._ I then notice that his beard is neatly trimmed. He's lying to us about his camp. "But my friends used to call me Jesus. Your pick."

 _Whoa. Didn't see that one coming._ I scoff at his friend's nickname for him. "Hell, they ain't wrong," I comment. "You said you didn't have a camp? You on your own?"

"Yeah," Jesus answers. "But, still, best not to try anything."

"Best not to make threats you can't keep, either," Daryl replies.

"Exactly," Jesus agrees with a grin. He turns and runs off, but Rick starts to call after him, asking the questions. Daryl immediately cuts him off, turning as he says, "No. Not this guy."

Rick ignores him, calling, "How many walkers have you killed?"

"Sorry, gotta run," Jesus calls back. "You should, too! Think you've got about seven minutes!"

"What the hell was that?" Daryl questions.

"He was clean," Rick says.

"I caught that, too," I say. "His beard was trimmed. There's more goin' on there."

"He didn't have a gun, either," Daryl points out.

"We could track him, watch him for a while," Rick suggests. "Get to know more. See if he's really alone. Maybe bring him back."

"Nah, guy calls himself Jesus," Daryl argues. From the back of the store, there's a rattling. I draw my gun as I start towards the back of the building, Daryl and Rick behind me. I lower my gun when I see the smoke from the barrel, the three of us all cursing at the firecrackers. "He swiped your keys, didn't he?" Daryl questions.

Rick feels his pocket, shouts, "Shit!" and takes off for the front of the store. As he drives away, tossing our bags out the window, Jesus calls, "Sorry!"

"Fuckin' Judas!" I yell after him, chasing him down the road. I stop only for a second to scoop up my bag before continuing down the road.

"Clary!" Daryl yells after me. "Clary, stop! Wait!"

"He's got our shit!" I reply without turning around.

"Cheyenne!" Daryl barks, and I turn as he grabs my arm, having caught up to me. He quiets down as he says, "C'mon. Don't leave us. We've gotta stick together out here."

"And he took our shit," I reply, pulling my arm out of his grasp. "I ain't waitin' 'round for him to get away."

"I'm tellin' you to wait," Daryl repeats. " _For us."_ He turns as Rick joins us. "Now, let's go!"

I lead the way, being the fastest runner out of all of us, and after running for a little over two miles, I slow to a stop as we come to the vending machine, detatched now from the truck. As we take a minute to catch our breath, I use my shield to break open the glass. Daryl reaches down in, pulling out two cans of soda as he tells Rick, "Special request from the doctor."

Daryl, noticing one has been pierced by the glass, raises it to his mouth, shaking some of it in. "Whatever she wants," Rick says as Daryl passes it over to me. "She saved Carl's life. We didn't know her and she turned out to be alright." I pass it over to Rick, who finishes it off. "If there's still people out here, and they're still people, we should bring 'em in."

"What, like this guy?" Daryl questions, putting his pack on his back after putting the remaining can in.

"No, not this guy," Rick says.

I gesture to the tire tracks on the ground. "We still got a trail and I can keep on runnin'. Let's go."

Without another word, we're off again. We only stop when we see the crest of a hill. I move forward, keeping my head down, as we peer over the crest of the hill. At the bottom, Jesus kneels beside the truck, fixing a flat tire. I gesture over to the woods, and Daryl leads the way through them, sneaking up on Jesus from the side. Just inside the treeline, we holster our weapons, splitting up. Daryl takes off for the front, while I head for the back, and Rick lags behind, waiting to be the backup. As Jesus closes the back door, I ambush him from behind, wrapping my arms around him so he can't move. I growl, "Hold still, and maybe we won't hurt you."

"Sure thing," he says. "But I hate to hit a lady."

I groan as he elbows me in the stomach, freeing himself. I start after him, but cry out, dropping to the ground, after he kicks me in the stomach. I look up as Jesus makes a run for it, and a thump comes from around the corner of the trailer. I see Jesus stepping away as Rick comes running, jumping over me before he shoves Jesus to the ground. I scramble to my feet, taking my place between Daryl and Rick as we aim our guns at him. "This is done," Rick tells him.

As a walker emerges from the woods, growling, Jesus props himself up on his elbows, asking, "Do you even have any ammo?"

"Well, I don't know 'bout Butch and Sundance here," I say, then raise my gun and take down the walker. "But I sure as hell do."

"Okay," Jesus gives. "But are you gonna shoot me over a truck?"

"There's a lot of food on that truck," Rick says. "The keys, now."

"I think you know I'm not a bad guy."

"I ain't religious, but ain't Jesus the good guy?" I ask. "I mean, I'd hope you're not some son of a whore-bag piece of shit, stealin' what people like us need to survive. So, tell me, sweetheart, what do you know about us?" I gesture over to Rick with a nod of my head. "Give us the keys, and maybe we'll let you live. I won't ask again."

"Here," Jesus relents, handing them over. We lower our guns, and I hesitate for a moment when Rick orders me to tie him up. I look over at our leader, asking, "You really think he's gonna try somethin'? We've got guns, he don't."

"Tie him up, now," Rick repeats.

I grab the rope from Daryl's bag, who's somewhat pissed to find out that the can of soda was crushed during the fight, and kneel, tying Jesus' hands together, and then his ankles. He watches me as I do it, asking, "You're really gonna leave me here like this? You're really gonna do that?"

I look down, not meeting his eyes as I tell him, "The knots aren't tight. You'll be able to get free after we're gone."

Rick picks up the keys, turning and climbing in the truck as Jesus proposes, "Maybe we should talk now."

"Nah," Daryl argues. He shakes up the nearly empty can, tossing it over at Jesus. "Here. In case you get thirsty."

As Daryl turns to climb in the truck, I stand, looking down at Jesus. "I'm sorry, man. You're a hell of a good fighter."

"Sorry I hit you," he replies. "I don't like hitting girls. Or anyone, really, unless I have to."

"I can take it," I tell him. "But thanks, anyway."

Jesus nods once. "You don't really like doing his bidding, do you?"

"I'm a soldier," I reply. "And he's in command. I don't got another choice."

Jesus gestures with his head to the shield on my back. "Cool shield. Makes you look like Captain America. It's a good look for you."

"I'm cute as heck, but I'll still break your neck," I reply with a shrug.

"Cheyenne!" Daryl shouts. "Move your ass!"

I look down at Jesus, then kneel, quickly cutting the ties around his ankles. "Shut up," I whisper before he can ask. "We don't leave others helpless. Give us a few minutes head start." I meet his eyes. "I've been exiled before, left with nothin' but the clothes on my back, and I ain't puttin' you in the same situation."

I take off, climbing over Daryl to return to my place in the middle. Daryl flips him off in the side mirror as Rick starts to drive, shouting, "So long, you prick!"

As we drive, heading back towards home, we eat some of the candy Daryl took from the vending machine. "Holy shit," I mutter, taking the KitKat Daryl offered me. "I forgot what this tasted like."

"Today is still the day," Rick says. "We hit a bump, but today is still the day." He gestures to a barn up ahead. "Look."

"Yeah, a barn," Daryl replies. "Wow."

Rick pulls off the road, driving through the open gate and into the field. Up above, there's a thumping, and Rick asks, "You hear that?"

I reach forward, turning the radio off as Daryl says, "I bet that son of a bitch is on the roof."

"Hold on," Rick tells us, then slams on the breaks. Jesus goes tumbling off the roof, landing on the ground in front of us. I look around at the boys, then back at Jesus as he gets to his feet, staring in at us. He takes off, Rick taking off after him. The truck bounces along, and I get up, cursing under my breath, as I climb over Daryl for the door. "Clary!" he exclaims as I open the door.

"Clary!" Rick shouts after me. I jump out, rolling before scrambling to my feet. I take off after Jesus, running alongside the truck, and Daryl joins me a moment later, Rick still trying to cut him off in the truck. _This is where the Benny Hills music would come into play._ We chase after him, Rick eventually giving up and parking the truck. Daryl and I chase Jesus like some fucked up game of tag, and it's then that I notice the half dozen, at least, walkers. "Daryl!" I bark. "Walkers!" Jesus takes off towards the truck as Rick climbs out of it. "I got him! You two, get the walkers!" Ahead, to Jesus, I bark, "Get back here, you little shit! I ain't losin' a game of tag to some asshole called Jesus!"

I toss my shield to Daryl as he switches direction, going to help Rick with dispatching the dead, and I continue after Jesus. He throws open the door, taking the wheel as he climbs in. I follow after him, grabbing his arm as I say, "The song says 'Jesus take the wheel' but it don't mean you!"

I struggle to pull him out, while he fights to stay in, and he reaches behind me after something. _My bag?_ It all makes sense when he aims my own gun at me. "Duck," he says.

I don't hesitate to do so, and he fires. I look at the walker behind me for a second, then back to Jesus. "Thanks," I tell him, then throw a punch, taking back my gun. "But that's _my_ gun!"

I climb up into the truck, trying to pull him out. He must hit the gear shift as we fight, because we both freeze when the truck starts rolling backwards. We look at each other, and I let out a cry of surprise when Jesus pushes me off of him and out the door. I hit the ground, rolling away, as he jumps out after me, falling to the ground. The door catches him as it rolls backwards, knocking him out. I get to my feet as Daryl and Rick appear beside me, watching as the truck rolls into the lake, sinking below the surface. "Well, shit," Daryl says, dropping my shield beside me.

I kneel beside Jesus, gently lifting his head to check the spot where the door caught him. I look down, watching as his chest rises and falls, then look up when Rick asks, "You alright?"

I nod once, and Daryl remarks, "Law of averages. That's bullshit, man." I sit back on my legs beside Jesus, watching to see if he'll wake up. "Let's go check those cars, see 'bout gettin' the hell outta here."

"What about the guy?" Rick questions.

"What about him?" Daryl replies.

"He saved my ass, Daryl," I answer, looking up at him. "Twice."

"Maybe," Daryl replies.

Rick questions, "He ever pull a weapon on you? Either of you?"

"Fine," Daryl says. "Let's put him up a tree."

I get to my feet, standing over Jesus as Daryl starts over. "No," I say, holding my shield in a way to protect Jesus from my brother. "No. He saved my ass and now he's hurt. We're takin' him to Denise."

Daryl shakes his head. "No way. Not him."

Rick nods once. "He's right. We're not takin' him back. Not to where our family is."

I stare Rick down, ready to challenge him. And I do. "I said, we're takin' him back. So we're gonna take him back. Let's find a damn car that works, and take him home with us."

* * *

 ** _~Michonne~_**

Spencer's silent as I follow him through the woods, still wondering why he's out here with a shovel. "Why are you still out here?" he questions without turning around.

"I liked your mom a lot," I answer. "I really don't want you to die. So come on. Let's go home."

"My family's dead," Spencer snaps, cutting me off. "That's not home. It's just where I live."

"It's more than that."

Spencer turns to look at me. "Enough. I'm fine. You've got a life back there, and maybe I will, too, but before I can even think about that, I've got to take care of something." He glances down. "I have to try."

"So let me help you," I say.

Spencer shakes his head. "You can't."

Before I can reply, leaves rustle. I draw my katana, turning to face the direction that it came from. I recognize a figure jogging through the woods, in the same direction we were heading, and realize that it's Carl. _What the hell is he doing out here?_ I turn when I hear the snarling, and when I recognize the walker, everything clicks. _That's why Spencer's out here._ I turn to look at him as he takes the shovel off his shoulder, laying it on the ground with his rifle as he draws his knife. "I thought I saw her that night," he says. "I thought I did. I did."

He tightens his grip on his knife as the walker that was once Deanna approaches, eyes brimming with tears. He starts forward, and I drop my sword, moving to hold her back so she doesn't attack him. I hold her in place as he lifts her head, looking into her cloudy eyes as he plunges the knife into his mother's brain. Spencer catches her body as she goes limp, dead forever now. He sinks to the ground, holding his mother's body, before looking up at me. "That's why I was out here," he says.

I look around at where we are, then down at him. "This is a nice spot," I offer. "I think she'd like to be buried here."

* * *

 ** _~Clary~_**

We drive home in silence, Rick in the passenger seat, Daryl in the back with an unconscious Jesus. I glance at Daryl in the rearview mirror, then over at Rick. He nods once, and I swerve just enough to knock Jesus' head onto Daryl's shoulder. Daryl elbows him off, glaring up at me. "He took a pretty hard hit," I say. "Denise needs to look him over."

"Yeah," Daryl says.

"You wouldn't have gone through with it," Rick says. "You wouldn't have left him."

"I would've, right up in a tree," Daryl argues. "I would've."

"No. I know. Almost as soon as we got to Alexandria, you got it. You saw, you, Michonne, Glenn, you tried to tell me. So shut up. 'Cause I'm finally listening."

I swerve again, and my brother glares up at me as Jesus falls against him. He shoves him off, pushing him against the window this time. "Hey, watch it!" I snap back at him.

Rick and Daryl share a look in the rearview mirror, but don't say anything. We're silent the rest of the way, and it's dark by the time we reach Alexandria. As we roll up to the gate, Daryl says, "You know, I was thinkin', the mornin' after Reg and Pete, you said we shouldn't be lookin' for people no more. You were right."

"No," Rick disagrees, shaking his head. "I was wrong. You were right."

I blink the headlights, letting whoever's on gate duty know it's us, and I pull up to Denise's. "You got him?" I ask Daryl and Rick. "I'm gonna go check in with the others."

"You mean Carl," Daryl mumbles as we climb out of the car. "Go get 'em, tiger."

"Shut up," I say, punching his arm. I take off towards our house, and I find Carl sitting on the front porch, Judith balanced on one knee, watching the stars. "Hey, Superman."

Carl scoffs, looking up at me. "Howdy, Dixon."

"Oh, don't say howdy. Please, don't. It was one time." Carl smirks as I lean down to kiss him. "How was your day?"

"Okay, I guess," he answers. "You?"

"Met a dude named Jesus," I answer, taking a seat on his other knee after leaning my shield against the railing. "That was… interesting."

"Sounds like it," Carl mutters. "You'll have to tell me 'bout that one later." I lean back against his chest, watching as he points out the stars to Judy. "See that bright one?" Judith lifts her hand, imitating him. "Yeah, that's the North Star. It's at the end of the Little Dipper. If you get lost at night, just find that star."

"I don't have a North Star, but I've got the next best thing," I murmur, threading my fingers through Carl's as I look up at him. "I've got you. I get lost, and you lead me back home."

Carl smiles softly at that, leaning his head against mine. I look up when I hear footsteps, Michonne climbing the steps. "Hey," she says. "You have a good day?"

"I guess so," Carl answers. He passes Judy to me, saying, "Let's take her in."

I get to my feet, Carl following behind me as we head for the door. "Carl," Michonne says, and he stops, turning to look at her. As she puts her katana down, I turn, watching with Judith from the sidelines. "I saw what you did. With Deanna."

"Yeah?" Carl questions, stepping closer to her.

"You should've left her or killed her," Michonne scolds.

"No, that's stupid."

"What's stupid is you being out there when you don't have to."

"You did the same thing. You and Spencer didn't have to go out there, but you did."

"That's different."

"It's not," Carl argues. "I wasn't gonna leave her out there like that. You wouldn't." Michonne opens her mouth to object as I step closer. "You wouldn't. I know it. I couldn't kill her."

"Why not? You could've killed her."

"Because I couldn't, and I wouldn't."

"Was that some sort of game out there?"

"No!"

"Then why?"

"'chonne," I say, stepping closer to them as I realize why he wouldn't kill Deanna. "Let it go. Trust me, don't press."

"Why?" Michonne questions.

"It wasn't my place," Carl answers. "Because it should be someone who loved her, someone who's family. I'd do it for you." Michonne's gaze softens as he says that. "I would."

She smiles softly, and her voice shakes as she whispers, "Come here."

Carl steps towards her, and she wraps an arm around him. He rests his head against her shoulder, and Michonne holds out a hand towards me. I step towards her, and she pulls me into the hug. I lean into her as she wraps her arm around me, holding both Carl and I close to her. Michonne had a kid once, one that died early on, and I get the feeling that while Carl and I will never replace him, we've made up for her losing him. I said once that I don't belong in this group anymore, but now, I see that I do. I'm part of this family, and that won't ever change.


	10. Chapter 9: Entropy From Order

_**Chapter 9: Entropy From Order**_

 _ **~Jesus~**_

I take a guess on the home that houses Rick, Daryl, and Clary, hoping that I'm right. I start upstairs, opening the first door on the right. Inside, I see Clary lying on a bed, asleep, her boyfriend's arm around her waist. _Well, I'm in the right house._ I quietly close the door, trying not to wake them, and pick another door, down the hall on the left. When I walk in, I find Rick lying on a bed with a woman, a sheet covering them. "Rick," I hiss. "Rick." The two scramble up, grabbing their weapons and aiming them at me, all three of us trying to ignore the fact that they're completely naked. "We need to talk."

"What the hell?" the woman questions, her eyes darting to Rick before back at me.

"It's a long story, Michonne," Rick answers. "Think you can give us a minute to get dressed?"

I turn and walk out, closing the door behind me as I step out into the hall. I walk back over to the stairs, where I noticed a painting earlier. I take it off the wall, sitting down on the steps as I study it. Three of the four queens—hearts, spades, and clubs. _So, where's the diamond?_ I pause, looking up when I hear two guns being cocked beside me. Out of the two, I notice Clary there first. _There she is._ Her boyfriend, who shares a certain resemblance with Rick, stands right beside her. The boy demands, "What the hell are you doing in our house?"

"I'm, uh, sitting on the steps, looking at this painting," I answer as Clary shifts her gun, raising it around her shield to cover both herself and her boyfriend. I look them over as I turn on the steps to face them. The kid has bandages over his eye, and like Clary, his hair is messed up from sleep, and they're both half dressed. I notice how he stands on her left, trusting Clary to watch his blind side, his right. "And I'm waiting for your mom and dad to get dressed."

"Carl," Clary says, lowering her gun slightly. "This is the guy I told you 'bout. I guess I'll be the first to say it, Jesus. Welcome to Alexandria."

I tear my gaze away from her as Rick and Michonne rush out from their bedroom, Michonne dressed and Rick halfway there, buttoning his jeans. "Carl," he says, seeing his son. "Hey. Umm."

"Fuckin' knew it," Clary mutters, causing Carl to scoff. I turn back as four others climb the stairs, Daryl in the lead, guns raised. Clary steps down around me, raising her hands to keep Daryl and Rick back on either side. "Stand down," she orders, using her shield to separate Daryl and I. "He's weaponless."

"He kicked your ass," Daryl replies, cocking his gun. "Without even havin' a weapon."

"Daryl!" Clary snaps, turning to face her brother. "I said, _stand down._ Let go of your damn grudge match." Daryl lowers his gun as Clary puts herself between us, kneeling on the steps in front of me. When I notice that her shirt is barely buttoned, I look away, refusing to look anywhere below her shoulders. "Well, aren't you a gentleman?" Clary chuckles slightly, buttoning the shirt up a few more until I will look at her. I wince as she brushes my hair away from the spot where the truck door hit, and she drops her hand. "How's your head?"

I smile softly at her concern. "I'm alright, Miss."

"Good," she replies. "Now, what the hell are you doing in our house?"

"He said he wanted to talk," Rick answers.

"Alright," Clary says, looking down at me. "Let's talk."

* * *

 _ **~Clary~**_

Jesus sits at one end of the table, while the rest of us either sit or stand at the other, watching him. I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table. "How'd you get out?" I question. "Y'know, aside from you bein' a damn ninja."

"One guard can't cover two exits or third floor windows," he answers.

Before he can say anything else, I turn to Rick. "'One guard.' You had _one guard_?"

"He was passed out, tied up," Rick retorts, trying to defend himself.

"Knots untie and locks get picked," Jesus adds. "Entropy comes from order, right?"

"Right," Daryl says, glaring down at him.

"I checked out your arsenal," Jesus continues, and my hand drifts to my gun resting on the table at that. He notices, and adds, "No, no. I didn't take anything. I just wanted to see what you had. I haven't seen anything like that in a long time. You're well equipped, but your provisions are low. Very low for the amount of people you have. Fifty-four?"

"More than that," Maggie replies from her spot beside Glenn.

"I appreciate the cookie," Jesus tells us. "My compliments to the chef."

"She ain't here," Daryl growls.

Jesus turns to him, saying, "Look, we got off to a bad start. But we're on the same side. The living side. You, Clary, and Rick had every reason to leave me out there, but you didn't. I'm from a place a lot like this one. Part of my job is searching out other settlements to trade with. I took your truck because my community needs things, and you three looked like trouble. I was wrong." Jesus glances across the table at me. "Well, maybe not about you, Miss."

"Thanks," I reply. "But I'm more of a chaotic neutral. I like to keep my options open, ya know? Entropy from order, like you said."

Jesus chuckles. "You're good people. And this is a good place. I think our communities might be in a position to help each other."

"Do you have food?" Glenn questions, knowing that's what we're in need of the most.

"We've started to raise livestock. We scavenge, we grow. Everything from tomatoes to sorghum."

"Tell us why we should believe you," Rick demands.

"I'll show you," Jesus answers. "If we take a car, I can take you back home in a day, and you can all see for yourselves who we are and what we have to offer."

"Wait," Maggie says. "You're looking for _more_ settlements." Jesus nods once. "You mean you're already trading with other groups?"

Jesus leans back in his chair, grinning now. "Your world's about to get a whole lot bigger."

"Rick?" I question, looking over to him. "What do we do?"

"Well, it's your call," Rick says, gesturing towards me with a wave of his hand. "You were the one that brought him back. I didn't want to, but you proved me wrong. I trust your judgement."

"Thought I'd never hear that phrase again," I mutter, then glance over at Carl as he rests his hand on my knee.

"You'll make the right choice," he whispers.

I'm silent, knowing the future of this community rests on my shoulders yet again. I hesitate, then look up at Jesus. "We go."

* * *

"You made the right choice," Carl says, glancing up at me as we screw the lids shut on the gas cans. "You always do."

"Do I?" I question. "I mean, do I really? It's my call that's gotten people killed. It's my call that made us kill people. Is it the right choice?"

"Everything happens for a reason, Clary," he replies. "This place will be real."

I stop what I'm doing, looking up at him. "You think I'm doubtin' him."

"When don't you? You doubted this place, didn't you?"

"But I doubted Terminus, and look how that turned out. We just got lucky with Alexandria. I trust Jesus, I do, but his community, I don't know, man. Nothin' comes without a cost."

"This will work, Clary. I'm telling you. I can feel it."

"You feel it, huh?" I question, to which he nods. "Alright. You said this place would work and it did. I trust you with everything. You say Jesus' camp will work, then it'll work." Carl smiles softly, pulling me into a one armed hug. "I still don't want you to come with us."

Carl pulls back at that, looking down at me. "You just said it'll work."

"I know. I want to believe it will, but we don't know what we're walkin' into. _Who_ we're gonna face. And I don't want you there if it goes to shit."

"It's 'cause of my eye, ain't it?" Carl questions. "Go ahead, Dixon. Say it."

"Yeah, okay, that's what it is, Carl! You spent two weeks at Denise's. You're still healin', you're still gettin' used to it."

"I am used to it, Clary," Carl says, rather calmly. "You're not."

"I thought you were gonna die, Carl. Yeah, there's been times I was scared for you, but never like that. That was the second time in two years I've watched you take a bullet, and I just thought, 'This time, we won't get lucky. This time, I'm gonna lose him.' And that _scares the hell_ outta me. I don't want you comin' 'cause we don't know what we're facin'. You say you can handle it, and I wanna believe you, but I can't. Even if I try, I can't."

"Say it, Clary. You think this makes me weak. Go ahead. You don't gotta sugarcoat it. You never do, anyway."

"Hell, Carl, I don't know," I snap, throwing my hands up in the air to emphasize my point. "You're strong, but what happened, you're still not back. Not back to way you were before."

"I'm not the same person, Clary. I've changed. We all have."

"No, Carl, that's not what I meant," I say, shaking my head. "I meant your strength. It's not back yet, not fully. You're not at a hundred percent, and _that's_ why I don't want you goin' with us. I want to think it'll work, but I'm bein' realistic. I trust Jesus, I do, but not everyone in his group is like him. We're not all the same in ours. Some would as soon as kill a stranger as look at 'em, and others wanna talk. So I'm gettin' ready to face the ones like me. And I don't want you there for that. I know you're more than capable to fight right beside me, but right now, you ain't. So stay, please."

"Okay," Carl says after a moment. "Alright. I'll stay. But you gotta promise me you'll come back. In one piece. Alive."

I smile softly, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "You got it, Grimes."

He looks at something over my shoulder, then asks, "You sure?"

"No," Rick answers, and I turn as he approaches, Judith in his arms. "But if he's telling the truth, this could be the start of everything." He glances up at the porch as Jesus walks down the stairs, accompanied by Michonne, before turning back to us. "Look, I was gonna tell you about me and Michonne, but it just happened. It _just_ happened. Last night. This is… this is different."

"It's cool," Carl says, grinning.

"One down, one to go," I say, glancing over at Carl. "And it looks like you have my next three dishwashing shifts."

Carl groans at that, and Rick looks at the two of us. "Come on, really?" he sighs.

"Hey, it happened to us," I say with a shrug.

"For a year," Carl adds. "It's our turn to make the bets."

Rick sighs. "Alright, fair enough. Well, get your stuff. Gabriel can take care of Judith while we're gone."

"No, I'm not coming," Carl objects. "Someone's gotta stay back, keep this place safe." He chuckles nervously. "A kid with a messed up face probably wouldn't make the best first impression anyway."

Rick hands Judith over to him, and I kiss Carl's cheek before following Rick. "Let's chew up some asphalt!" Abraham calls.

He holds the door open as we climb in, and Daryl closes it as he joins us inside. I look around at the group inside as we drive out of our safe haven, towards one that might not be what we think it is. Michonne rides up front with Rick, Jesus in the seat behind her. Glenn sits at the couch against the window, his hand on his wife's stomach as she sleeps, Maggie's head against his shoulder. I sit with Daryl at the table, Abraham opposite of us. My brother keeps his eyes on Jesus, still not trusting him one bit, and I elbow him in the side. He looks over at me, and I drop my voice to keep the conversation between us as Abraham asks Glenn something I don't catch that involves Bisquick and pancakes. "Just trust him, will you?" I question.

Daryl huffs. "Like hell. Kicked our asses, stole our shit."

"We got it back."

"Bastard ain't gettin' nothin'."

"Daryl," I snap. "Do you trust me?"

He looks over, confused that I'm even asking that question. "Of course."

"Do you trust my calls?"

"You make the right ones. Yes."

"Do you trust my judgement?"

"I trusted Glenn since I found out he took care of you. Of course I do."

"Then trust Jesus. That's all I'm askin'. If you ain't gonna trust him for you, then do it for _me_. He saved my life, and I trust him. He's one of us."

I look up as Jesus climbs around Abraham into the seat across from us. "I heard my name," he explains.

Daryl snorts. "Probably heard a lotta other shit, too."

"Jesus Christ, Daryl," I sigh. "What the hell did I just say? You know I wouldn't say that unless I knew for sure."

Daryl sighs, but before he can say anything, the brakes squeal as Rick slows to a stop. "Rick?" Daryl questions. "What's goin' on?"

"We got a crash ahead," Rick answers, and Jesus climbs back around Abraham to look up at it. "Looks like it just happened."

"It's one of ours," Jesus breathes, starting for the door before Rick has even fully stopped. Rick sighs, and I jump over Daryl, following Jesus out of the RV. "They're not here," he says, looking inside the truck, ignoring the snarling walkers pinned underneath it. "Where are they?"

I look over as Rick appears beside me, his gun aimed at Jesus as he says, "If this is a trick, it won't end well for you."

"My people are in trouble," Jesus says, his eyes glancing from Rick to I. "They don't—we don't have a lot of fighters. I know how it looks, but I'll play it out. Can I borrow a gun?"

"No," Daryl snaps, sending a glare my way as I start to hand mine over. "Cheyenne. Look around, dumbass. We got tracks right here."

"Don't call me dumbass, dumbass," I reply, following the tracks to a building a few hundred feet away. Rick pounds on the door, his gun raised. Jesus says, "They gotta be in there."

Rick lowers his gun, turning to look at him as Abraham inquires, "We moving in or what?"

"How do we know this ain't firecrackers in a trash can?" Daryl questions.

"You don't," Jesus replies shortly.

"We'll get your people," Rick tells him. "You're staying here with at least one of us."

Jesus turns to me, and I say, "Hey, it's the deal. I'll stay."

"Maggie, too," Glenn says after a quick word with his wife.

"Maggie?" Rick questions, looking over at her.

"Yeah," she says. "Y'all go. Just be careful."

"We're gonna be careful," Rick says, and I step back as he handcuffs Jesus's hands behind his back.

"Just hurry," Jesus pleads.

Rick turns to look at Maggie and I. "You hear me whistle, shoot him."

"I will," Maggie confirms.

Rick's gaze shifts to me. "You got that."

"Yes, sir," I say, keeping one hand on my gun. Daryl holds the door open for the others as they venture in, closing it behind him and Glenn, the last two in. They look at Maggie and I through the glass before disappearing inside. Jesus turns to look at me as I step towards him, and Maggie shifts on her feet, raising her gun slightly. "Easy, Mag," I say, holding out a hand, silently telling her to lower it. "It's alright. Give us a minute, alright?"

Maggie lowers her gun, taking a few steps back, and I look up at Jesus. "I, uh, I never got to thank you," I start, running a hand through my hair as I look up at him. "You've saved my life. Twice."

"It's not a problem," he replies. "Like I said, more of them than us. We've gotta stick together."

"That's the thing, ain't it?" I say. "The livin' stickin' together? Easier said than done. People out there, they're worse than the dead. Walkers, they got one purpose, and that's to eat us. The enemy, though, they'll turn around and stab you in the back—" I snap my fingers "—just like that."

"That's what it's become, isn't it?" Jesus questions, looking down at me. "When I first met you three, I didn't know what to think. I thought you would turn out to be thieves, murderers, people that I can't trust. I think I may have been wrong about that."

"Daryl doesn't trust you, Jesus," I tell him. "Even after you savin' my ass. He'll trust anyone that does, 'cause they were lookin' out for his little sister. Me, on the other hand, it takes more than just savin' my ass to get me to trust someone. But you, I trust you. You're a good man, and there ain't a whole lotta people left like that no more."

Jesus smiles softly at the compliment. "I've got a question for you."

"Alright, fire away."

"So for some reason, you come off as the person that would have some tattoos. At least one, even though you're sixteen. Am I right or wrong?"

I grin. "You're right. I'm gonna make you guess where."

Jesus groans, while Maggie chuckles a bit at the two of us. "Oh, are you? Okay, so it's not on your arms. You don't strike me as someone that'd have a tramp stamp, but I'm gonna guess you do have something on your back."

I nod slowly, then stop. "Eh, it kind of is, but not entirely."

"So it's more like on your hip?" I nod once. "Can I see it?"

"It says ' _aequitas,_ '" I tell him as turn. I lift the side of my shirt up, then quickly pull it back down when I realize how far I pulled it up. "Shit. Too far."

"Hey, wait," Jesus says softly. "Clary, what was that? And I don't mean your tattoo?"

I don't answer.

"Clary? You okay?"

"I'll show you my back some other time," I tell him. "Just, not here."

"You really trust him, don't you?" Maggie questions. "I mean, if you're willing to show him."

Jesus starts, "They were... You were…"

"Yeah," I answer, cutting him off. "I usually don't like talkin' 'bout it, but I will. Glenn, even after all of this, he still thinks I'm made of glass. Like I'll shatter if he brings it up, or if he just hits my arm."

"Glenn thinks you'll hate him if he does," Maggie says. "I lost track of how many times I've had to tell him that nothing could make you hate him."

Jesus falls silent, his eyes cast down. He shifts on his feet, glancing up at me. "Sorry I hit you," he mutters.

"Don't be. You had to defend yourself didn't you?" I questions, and it's not long after that our people emerge, Abraham helping one of the four along. "Rick," I say, seeing him exit the building.

He tosses me the keys, and I unlock Jesus's handcuffs. He rubs his wrists as I hand them back to Rick, then take Jesus's arm, pulling him with me as we head towards the RV. "Too tight?" I question.

"No, you're fine," Jesus replies, glancing down at me.

I release his arm. "Not me. The handcuffs, your wrists."

"Eh, it'll be fine."

"Let me see," I request, holding out my hand, palm up. He places his hand in mine, allowing me to see the red marks around his wrists. "Ouch. Those'll be sore for a little while. Trust me, I know. I was arrested once."

"Once, my ass," Daryl says as he passes us, sending a glare at Jesus.

"Hey, they never convicted me of anythin'," I call after him. I take Jesus's hand as we jog to catch up with the others. "Let's get your people home."

* * *

I elbow Jesus in the side to get his attention, noticing the solemn expression on his face. "Hey, cheer up," I tell him. "All your people are here. They all made it."

Jesus smiles softly at that thought, and I get up, making my way to the back of the RV where Glenn and Maggie speak to one man in the group, Harlan. "That's my husband, Glenn," Maggie's telling him, then sees me approach. "And that's Clary Dixon. As you can tell by the shield, she thinks she's Captain America."

"Oh, ha ha, Mag," I say with a humorless laugh. "You think you're so funny."

Harlan chuckles, looking up at Glenn. "We're bringing back medication, so you may have saved more people than just us back there, Glenn."

"That's what he does," I say, ducking under his arm. "He saves people, even ones he doesn't know. Takes care of others 'fore himself."

"Shut up, Clary," Glenn mutters, being the modest little shit he is. "Harlan, you're a doctor?" He nods once. "You have any prenatal vitamins in there?"

"I assume they're for you," Harlan says, grinning slightly as he looks over at the blushing Maggie. "Well, uh, I was an obstetrician before, and I most definitely owe you. So, I'd say you two just hit the jackpot."

I find myself grinning with the two, even though I'm still nervous about it all. Even with the doctors, the houses, the resources, I'm still beyond scared that Maggie's going to die during childbirth like Lori. I don't know what that would do the group, to Carl, let alone to Glenn. Behind me, Glenn leans down, whispering to me, "So, how's it feel knowing you're going to be an aunt, Clary?"

"Pretty damn good, Short Round," I answer, grinning. My way of hiding my unease. "Pretty damn good."

I grab for something to hold onto, which happens to be Glenn, when the RV suddenly halts, both of us trying not to fall over. "Rick?" I call up, ducking back under Glenn's arm as I start for the front of the RV. "What is it?"

"Storm must've passed through," he replies. "We're stuck."

I look over Jesus's shoulder as he peers out the windshield, telling Rick, "No worries. We're here."

I step back, then follow him out, my shield already on my arm. I keep my crossbow up, using the edge of the shield to balance it, in case this community isn't as friendly as its recruiter. "That's us," Jesus says as we gather behind him, looking up at the walled community. "That's the Hilltop."

"Lead the way," I tell him, gesturing forward. He starts off, and we follow him up a path, towards a gate. We all raise our weapons when a voice calls, "Stop right there!"

Jesus holds out his hands towards us, silently telling us to lower the weapons. "Whoa, guys!"

"You gonna make us?" Daryl challenges to the guys on the wall.

"Jesus, what the hell is this?" one of the men questions.

"Open the gates, Kal," Jesus orders. "Freddie's hurt." He looks back at us. "Look, sorry about these guys." He directs the next part towards them. "They get pretty antsy standing up there all day doing nothing."

"They give up the weapons, the shield," Kal demands. "Then we'll open the gates."

"Why don't you come down here and get 'em?" Daryl challenges.

"You'll take my shield over my dead body, asshat!" I snap.

"Gentlemen," Harlan says, stepping forward. "Look, we vouch for these people, all right? They saved us out there."

"Lower the spears," Jesus orders.

"Look, Suburbia, we ain't takin' any chances," I tell Jesus. "Tell your guy Gregory to come out here."

"No," Jesus replies, looking down at me. "Don't you see what just happened? I'm letting you keep your guns. Look, we ran out of ammo months ago. I like your people. I trust you. So I'm asking you, trust us." I don't even look at Rick for approval before placing my crossbow on my shoulder, then raising my hand and gesturing for the others to lower their weapons. Jesus smiles softly before turning to the men on gate duty. "Open the gates, Kal."

The gates squeak as they're opened, allowing us inside Jesus's community. I look around, remembering everything that Jesus claimed they had. Livestock—I see chickens, cows in the distance, and goats. Crops—well, you name it, they're probably growing it. In one stall, a blacksmith works. I turn and walk backwards, looking up at their gate and walls, at their watch posts. They're mostly located along the front, right by the gate. I turn back to Jesus as he says, "There was a materials yard for a power company nearby. That's how we put up the walls. A lot of people came from a FEMA camp. Trailers came with them."

"How did people find out about this place?" Michonne questions.

Jesus gestures up to the mansion before us, in the center of their community. "That's called Barrington House. The family that owned it gave it to the state in the '30s. The state turned it into a living history museum."

"Jesus Christ, I didn't realize we were in for a history lesson," I sigh, earning a laugh out of Abraham.

Jesus chuckles. "Sorry. Every elementary school for fifty miles used to come here for field trips. The place was running a long time before the modern world built up around it. I think people came here because they figured it'd keep running after the modern world broke down. Those windows up there let us see for miles in every direction."

"That explains the lack of watch posts on the perimeter," I note. "You could still do with some, though. Wouldn't hurt."

"It's perfect for security. And Clary, I think you're right. We could use some other watch posts." Jesus gestures for us to follow him. "Come on, I'll show you inside."

We hesitate, not quite ready to lower our guns, but when I keep my crossbow on my back, it shows the others that I trust Jesus enough to walk, unarmed, into an unknown place on his word. I follow him up the steps, carrying my shield as I can't have it on my back at the same time as my crossbow. Jesus holds the door open for us, closing it after Maggie, as we look around the mansion. I said before that the homes in Alexandria were like mansions, but they've got nothing on Barrington. Hell, the place is damn near as fancy as the White House. Abraham draws, "Good gracious ignatius."

"Most of the rooms have been converted to living spaces," Jesus tells us. "Even the ones that weren't bedrooms."

"People live here and the trailers?" Rick questions.

"We plan to build. There's babies being born."

To the left, a door opens, and a grey haired man steps through. "Jesus," he says. "You're back. With guests."

"Everyone, this is Gregory. He keeps the trains running on time around here."

"I'm the boss," Gregory simplifies.

"Well, I'm Rick," our leader starts, stepping towards him. "We have a community—"

Gregory cuts him off by saying, "Why don't y'all go get cleaned up, huh?"

"He's joking, right?" I question, glancing over at Jesus as Rick tells him, "We're fine."

"Jesus will show you where you can get washed up," Gregory continues. "Then come back down here when you're ready. It's hard to keep this place clean."

"Yeah, sure," Rick gives. As Jesus leads us up a flight of stairs, Rick makes a request to Maggie that she be the first one to speak to Gregory, as she's good at this type of thing. At the top of the stairs, I stop and look down at Gregory on the floor below, watching us. I find myself wondering if everything is what it seems, believing something to be hidden. Something big. A secret that could harm us all. And when I look down at Gregory, seeing the worry he attempts to mask with the smile on his face, I know that I'm right. "Oh, shit," I mutter. "What the hell did I get us into?"

* * *

"We want to generate trade," Jesus tells us. "Gregory does. But ammo isn't something we urgently need."

"Well, how's that?" Rick questions.

"The walls hold. We just brought in more medicine. Gregory wants the best deal possible."

"Yeah, well, we want things, too," Daryl says, pacing behind me as I sit on the arm of a chair Rick leans against.

"We need food, Jesus," I tell him. "We came all this way, didn't we? We're gonna get it."

"I will talk to him," Jesus promises. "And we will work this out. Circumstances change. We're doing well now, and you will next. I will make him understand that. Can you give me a few days?"

I look up at Rick, waiting for his approval to take charge again before I answer, but Michonne beats me to it. "We can."

Rick gestures over to Michonne. "What she said."

"Clary?" Jesus questions. "You coming here, it was your choice. You've got the final word."

I scoff at that. "Yeah, sure I do. I'm just a soldier, Jesus, that takes charge when I need to. It ain't up to me."

"Yes, it is," Jesus argues. "I won't do anything without your go ahead, your approval. You're in charge of the people of Alexandria now."

"Jesus, I'm sorry, but... I'm not the leader of my people." I gesture beside me to Rick. "He is."

Jesus frowns, looking more disappointed than saddened. "You know, you really had me fooled there, Clary. I really believed you were in charge."

"What Rick says, goes. So we're givin' you a few days."

We turn as the front door opens, Gregory coming out of his office when he hears it. To the man that opens the door, he questions, "What's wrong?"

"They're back," he answers. Gregory shares a look with Jesus before heading towards the door, and I get to my feet, following behind them, my group on my heels. I don't take my shield off my back, not yet, and leave my crossbow in house, as I'm not sure what we're up against. As we head towards the gate, a group of two men and a woman make their way towards us, the man with the beard in the lead. Gregory calls, "Ethan, what happened to everybody else? Where's Tim and Marsha?"

"They're dead," Ethan answers, stopping in front of Gregory while the other two hang back.

"Negan?" Gregory questions, and I freeze. _That's the secret. That's what he's hiding._

"Yeah."

"We had a deal."

"He said it wasn't enough," the second man in the group replies. "Was the drop light?"

"No."

"They still have Craig," the woman tells Gregory.

"They said they'd keep him alive, return him to us, if I deliver a message to you," Ethan says, stepping closer to Gregory.

"So tell me," Gregory says as Ethan places a hand on his shoulder.

My hand drifts to my knife as I open my mouth to tell Gregory to back up, but Ethan cuts me off before I can. "I'm sorry."

As he plunges the knife into Gregory's stomach, Rick and I start forward at the same time. We each take one of Ethan's arms, pulling him away, while Jesus and Maggie catch Gregory before he can fall. "Get off of me!" Ethan yells, trying to free himself. "I had to!"

He rips his arm from my grasp, thrusting the knife towards me. I jump back to avoid it, falling back onto my shield. From my spot on the ground, I can see Ethan taking a swing at Rick, who uses the same move Jesus used on me, a knee to the stomach, to knock him down. As Michonne runs over to me, Rick kneels over Ethan, throwing punches. Michonne pulls me to my feet, quickly checking to make sure I wasn't hurt, as the second guy on the drop team pulls Rick off of Ethan, throwing him to the ground. Abraham steps in, shoving the second guy away from him. They fall off to the side as Rick sits on Ethan's chest, throwing another punch. Daryl steps in to help Abraham, and the man on top of him cries out as Daryl takes his arm, pulling and not letting go. Rick, distracted by the cry of pain, loosens his hold on Ethan, who takes the opportunity to roll over so he's on top. He puts his knife to Rick's neck, causing Glenn to start froward, crying, "Hey!"

"Stay back!" Ethan yells. "Anyone who tries to stop me is killing my brother!"

I hesitate for a second at that, knowing that I would do the same to Rick that he did to Gregory if I were in Ethan's shoes, but right now, Rick's in danger and Daryl's safe. I take my shield off my back, slowly putting it on the ground and trying not to make any noise. I stay out of Ethan's line of vision as I make my way towards him, Michonne ordering him, "Drop it."

Ethan turns to look at Michonne, and I make my move, jumping on his back and slitting his throat. Rick takes action at the same time, our knives nearly meeting at the same spot as he drives his knife into Ethan's neck, blood pouring down onto him. I roll off of Ethan, pulling his body with me, as Rick gets to his feet. "You good?" I question, holding out a hand towards him as I take Ethan's knife.

"Yeah," he replies, looking around the people of Hilltop staring at us. At him, covered in the blood of one of theirs. Rick questions, "What?"

"Ethan!" the other man on the drop team yells from his spot on the ground. "You killed him!"

"He tried to kill Gregory!" Rick justifies. "Then Clary, then me!"

The woman of the team runs forward, throwing a punch that sends Rick to the ground. Michonne steps in, throwing her to the ground and growling, "Don't."

"Couples who kick ass together stay together," I mutter to Rick as I pull him to his feet.

Kal, the man from the gate, starts forward with his spear raised. "Drop it now!"

Rick raises his gun, while I draw mine and take Michonne's, aiming my two guns as a second man with a spear joins Kal. "I don't think I will," I growl.

"Everyone!" Jesus yells, running and putting himself between Rick and I and his people in an attempt to diffuse the situation. He keeps his hands up, much like the way I did this morning to keep Rick and Daryl back. "This is over!" He turns to Rick and I. "It's over." He projects his voice, speaking to everyone now. "Ethan was our friend, but let's not pretend he was anything more than a coward who attacked us. He did this. And these people stopped him." He looks at me. "She stopped him and saved us. Clary Dixon, of Alexandria."

"Jesus," I start. "What are you doing?"

"I'm telling my people what they need to hear. They need to know that there's a hero within your people. Heroes."

"Don't make me into a hero, Jesus. Don't you put me up on a pedestal."

"Let me do it," Jesus requests. "Get more of my people on your side."

As much as I hate it, I agree. We need his people on our side if we're going to make this work. "Alright. What can we do?"

"Put the guns away," he tells me. "You've done enough."

"I ain't puttin' anythin' away until Stabby over there lowers his."

"You talking to me?" Kal questions. "Are you talking to me?"

"Great," I say. "Another guy who's seen _Taxi Driver_ one too many times. Yeah, dumbass, I'm talkin' to you. Put the damn spear down."

"Kal, do what she says," Jesus tells him. "Put it down. We don't need any more death." Kal lowers his spear, and Rick and I follow. Jesus turns to us, speaking a bit quieter now. "You need to know that things aren't as simple as they might seem. Just give me some time."

He walks off without waiting for an answer, running back towards Gregory as Harlan arrives. I look up as Daryl steps up beside me, taking my hand. He's nervous about this, about what's going to happen, so his first instinct is to find me. "You alright?" Daryl murmurs.

"I knew something was up," I reply in the same quiet manner. "I just didn't know what."

"I shoulda known that wasn't the end of Negan back on that road," he mutters. "I was just hopin' we'd finally catch a break."

"Weren't we all?" I question.

* * *

 ** _~Maggie~_**

"Doctor Carson was able to patch Gregory up," Jesus reports, stepping into the leader's office where we're all gathered. "He's in pain, but he'll live."

"What happens now?" Michonne questions.

"Things like that don't usually happened here, but it's settled."

"We heard the name Negan," Rick says, taking a step forward. "A while back, Daryl and Abraham had a run-in with his men. Who is he?"

"Negan's the head of a group of people he calls the Saviors," Jesus answers. "As soon as the walls were built, the Saviors showed up. They met with Gregory on behalf of their boss. They made a lot of demands, even more threats. And he killed one of us—Rory." Jesus looks down at Clary. "He was no older than you. They beat him to death right in front of us. Said we needed to understand, right off the bat. Gregory's not exactly good at confrontation. He's not the leader I would've chosen, but he helped make this place what it is, and the people like him."

"He made the deal," I say.

"Half of everything," Jesus says. "Our supplies, our crops, our livestock. It goes to the Saviors."

"And what do you get in return?" Glenn questions.

"They don't attack this place. They don't kill us."

"Cowardly son of a bitch!" Clary barks out, rising from her spot on the couch near Jesus. "That ain't workin' out so well, is it, Jesus? He made a deal, but those Saviors kill yours anyway. It's a shit deal. So why don't you just kill them?"

Jesus scoffs. "Most of the people here don't even know how to fight, even if we had ammo."

"Well, how many people does Negan have?" Rick questions.

"We don't know. We've seen groups as big as twenty."

"Now, hold up," Daryl says. "So they show up, they kill a kid, and you give them half of everything? These dicks just got a good story. The bogeyman, he ain't shit."

"How would you know?" Jesus questions.

"'Bout two months ago, we took out his guys PDQ," Abraham tells him. "Left 'em in pieces and puddles."

"We'll do it," Daryl says, volunteering us for a fight. "If we go get your man back, kill Negan, take out his boys, will you hook us up? We want food, medicine."

"One of them cows," Clary adds. "We'll do it if you hook us up."

Jesus looks to Rick for more of an explanation. When it comes to the Dixons, they have more of a "get it done now, to hell with planning" attitude, rather than waiting and planning it all out. They're always ready to jump into a fight, while the rest of us want to make sure we know what needs to be done to win said fight. Rick tells him, "Confrontation's never been something we've had trouble with."

"I'll take it to Gregory," Jesus confirms before walking off.

Clary starts for the door, and I follow her, not sure if I want to leave her alone after she killed that man. The rest of the group follows us onto the porch, watching as the people of Hilltop burn the body of Ethan. "They have food," Clary says. "We don't. We don't have enough of anything."

"Except us," Rick contradicts.

"Except us," Clary agrees. "What we can do."

Rick turns around to face us as he says, "This is the trade."

"It's gonna cost us something," I say.

"I know," Clary sighs. "It always does. Nothin' comes without a cost. But if we go in quick, _Red Dawn_ this shit, then we stand a chance of losin' nothin'. We can get through this without a cost."

"Can you really?" Jesus questions as he steps out onto the porch. "I mean, you just said it. 'Nothing comes without a cost.' Can you do it without any casualties on our side?"

"I'll do my damn best," Clary answers. "What've you got for us?"

"Gregory's up and he wants to talk." Rick starts forward, being a bit better at things like this than Clary, and Jesus holds up a hand. "To Maggie. He wants to talk to Maggie. And he wants to talk to Clary about your mission to go in."

I look over at Glenn, not wanting to talk to Gregory after the conversation I had with him before. "Deanna was right about you," Rick says, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Go."

Jesus steps back, holding the door open for Clary and I. "I'm sorry in advance," he says. "Gregory can be a real prick."

"Trust me, I know," I mutter.

"Paul, you should've told me sooner," Clary mutters. I wonder for a second who Paul is, then realize that it's Jesus's real name. "I would've been glad to take out Negan."

"I'm sorry," he apologizes. "I didn't want to jeopardize any trust you had in me. But I would've told you, if I had known that."

She seems to accept it, as she doesn't snap back at him like she would to anyone else. Clary stays silent beside me, her hands clasped in front of her with her shield on her back, as we head into Gregory's room, like some sort of bodyguard.

"Sorry for the gloom," Gregory apologizes as I shut the door behind us. "They have me on these antibiotics that make me sensitive to the sunlight. This is agony. It's like somebody's twisting my intestines with a cement mixer."

"It could've been worse," I tell him, remembering the day I met Rick and Clary, how they showed up to the house with an injured Carl. "You're lucky we were here."

"Let's dismiss with the niceties and proceed to the matter at hand," Clary says, breaking her silence. "Jesus told you about our offer, yes?"

"He did," Gregory answers. "What makes you think you can do what we haven't done?"

Clary puts her hands on the footrest of the bed, leaning forward as she growls, "We're not a bunch of sniveling cowards. We've handled people like Negan. And we can do it again."

"How?"

"They're dead," I say. "We can get your man back."

"I don't know if Craig's worth the trouble," Gregory says with a sigh. "I mean, it's his brother who did this."

"He was fightin' to save someone he loves," Clary says. "If I was in Ethan's shoes, Daryl in danger, Rick right there in front of me, I wouldn't hesitate. Not if it was for Daryl. I'd kill for him, die for him, in a heartbeat. He was afraid."

"That makes him weak. Frankly, I don't know if I want him back in our gene pool."

"No," Clary says. "It made him strong. The fear is what keeps you goin'. The fear of losin' your blood, your family, that gives you the courage you wouldn't have the strength to do before."

"My dad used to tell me that forgiveness takes more strength than anger," I say.

"Yeah, I guess," Gregory sighs. "He's a hell of a cook. He makes these amazing baked eggs with green tomatoes."

"You give us supplies, we'll save Craig and take care of Negan and the Saviors," I say.

"Permanently," Clary adds.

Gregory laughs. "I'm sorry. I find this whole conversation pretty funny. I mean, you balked when I proposed that your people work for our supplies, but now… isn't that exactly what's happening here? See, I had leverage, and I used it."

Clary chuckles humorlessly, almost darkly. "Oh, darlin', you wish. We have a mutual enemy, one that's a threat to my people. We're takin' 'em out, and we'll get your man back in the process. Nothin' more. But if we're gonna be protectin' you from 'em, well, we want somethin' in return. So, tell me, which one of us has the leverage here?"

"Are you threatening me?" Gregory questions.

"Oh, no, we're not," I say, joining Clary at the end of the bed. "We want half."

"Excuse me?"

"Half of what you have. I saw what happened out there. Negan's expecting more supplies from this place. And more and more. And if it keeps going like that, pretty soon you won't have anything left. What happens then?"

"Contracts end, Gregory," Clary says. "You don't have ammo. Jesus is your only fighter. You might as well be a dead man. So half of everythin' you have, right now. We get half of what you have, and then everything we get after we take out the Saviors, we get to keep that, too. Or the deal's off. You see? We ain't threatenin' you. We're just usin' the leverage we got."

"Congratulations," Gregory says. "You have yourself a deal."

Clary smirks. "I knew you'd make the right choice."


	11. Chapter 10: It's All a Facade

_**Chapter 10: It's All a Facade**_

 _ **~Clary~**_

"We can work with the Hilltop," Rick says from his spot at the front of the church, where he's gathered everyone to tell them of our plan to attack the Saviors and of the trade with Jesus's people. "Maggie and Clary hammered out a deal. We're getting food. Eggs, butter, fresh vegetables. But they're not just giving it away. These Saviors, they almost killed Sasha, Daryl, and Abraham on the road. Now, sooner or later, they would've found us, just like those Wolves did. Just like Jesus did. They would've killed someone or some of us. And then they would try to own us."

"They'd try to make us their bitch," I add, staying seated on the table behind Rick. "But we ain't nobody's bitch. So we would try to stop them. But by then, in that kind of fight, low on food, we could lose. This is the only way to be sure."

"As sure as we can get, that we win," Rick adds. "And we have to win. We do this for the Hilltop, it's how we keep this place. It's how we feed this place. This needs to be a group decision. If anybody objects, here's your chance to say your piece."

For a few minutes, no one speaks. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Jesus and the man from the drop team, Andy. They sit in silence, waiting for their help to arrive in the form of the fighters of Alexandria. Then, the peace-loving, Kumbaya-singing son of a bitch stands. "You're sure we can do it?" Morgan questions. "We can beat 'em?"

"What this group has done, what we've learned. What we've become, all of us. Yes, I'm sure."

"Then all we have to do is just tell 'em that."

"It ain't that easy, Morgan," I say. "They ain't lookin' to compromise."

"This isn't a compromise. It's a choice you give them. It's a way out, for them and for us."

"We try and talk to the Saviors, we give up our advantage, our safety," Rick argues with a shake of his head. "No. We have to come for them before they come for us."

"We're not alone anymore," I say. "We're not safe. Our world's been turned upside down. We can't leave these people alive."

"Where's there's life, there's possibility," Morgan argues.

"Yeah, of them hitting us!" Rick snaps.

"We're not trapped in this. None of you are trapped in this."

"Morgan, they always come back."

"They come back where they're dead, too. This isn't something we should do."

"Hypocrite!" I bark, sliding off the table I sit on behind Rick, stepping around him to face Morgan. "You're a damn hypocrite, and a fool, too! We need everyone, not just a few! You're a killer, Morgan. Don't you lie to me. I know what you've done. I've seen what you've done. We need _everyone_ here!"

"Everyone's a hypocrite nowadays," he replies.

"Hmm, I suppose you're right," I say, then gesture to Gabriel. "We have preachers who kill." With my other hand, I gesture to Rick. "And there are killers who preach." I throw a hand out towards Eugene. "There are teachers who lie." I gesture to myself. "And liars who teach." With one hand, I gesture towards Morgan, and with the other, I gesture around the room. "Take your pick, Morgan, 'cause it's _all_ a facade."

"I dunno," Daryl says, still skeptical of trusting Jesus, even after all he's seen. After me pleading him to trust the man from Hilltop. "They're not even our group. They're someone else."

"You doubt us, Daryl," Jesus says, speaking up, "You say we're not one but two, and you don't know if we're evil or good. You think we're waiting to break through the facade."

"Between the two of us, there ain't a facade," I say, looking over at Jesus. "We're one in the same. We're not a Jekyll _or_ Hyde. We're _just_ Jekyll. We're the good. Both of us. Both of our groups. We're gonna help you, but it can't just be me." I turn my attention from Jesus to the Alexandrians, desperate to recruit them. "Look, I know this whole thing sounds sordid, but this is something we have to do. We'll be rewarded in the end." The group sitting in the pews mutter to themselves quietly, their eyes on me. "Of course, quid pro quo, you'll be expected to take, uh, certain duties on board."

"Is this something we can afford?" Eric questions.

"This is the only way we can keep our safety," I say, projecting my voice so there is no mistaking what I say. "There is no other way to say this. You'll die unless you stand by me. You'll die if we don't do this, 'cause they will find us, and they will kill us. Look, I know I just stood up here and told y'all that I'm a liar. But for once, I ain't lying. This is something that I know we have the ability to do. It won't be a problem for us. So we do this, or we die."

"I haven't seen all of you fight, but I have seen Clary fight," Jesus notes. "I know what she can do, and I can imagine what the rest of you can do. The Saviors won't know what hit 'em."

"They don't get to live to know," I say, and as I say my next line, I find myself remembering the Governor's words at the fall of the prison. "We get our guns, we go in. We kill 'em all." I look around at the group, knowing some of them have never taken a life and are uneasy about doing so. "Look, we don't all have to kill." I start down the aisle towards the door. "But those people staying here, they do have to accept it." I stop next to Morgan as I put my shield on my arm, using it to push him down into his seat. When he tries to fight back, I use my shield to block him from getting up. "So accept it, asshole. We're doin' it, with or without you. We take out every single one of 'em. And we show _no mercy._ "

* * *

Rick, Michonne, Daryl, Glenn, Maggie, and I gather in our home with Andy and Jesus, standing around a table. I grab a Sharpie from a drawer, holding it over the blank page before me, and I tell Andy, "Describe it."

"Rectangular building," he starts, and I draw it as he says it. "Big satellites on it."

"Any windows?"

"I don't remember any. I think they made it so there's only one way in."

"Guards outside?"

"Yeah, two of them, at least."

"And you don't know how many people they have?" Michonne questions.

"No," Andy replies. "Uh, I mean, not really. But I saw a place where they stored food. It wasn't that big, so…"

"You've been inside?" Rick questions.

"Yeah. They had us load in supplies one time."

Glenn slaps another piece of paper down in front of me as he asks Andy, "What do you remember?"

"Can I have that?" Andy asks, holding out his unbroken hand (the broken one courtesy of Daryl, during the fight at Hilltop) towards me. I pass the Sharpie over, standing aside as he starts to draw the inside. "I remember it, just can't describe it. It's easier like this."

"You didn't see any other rooms?" Maggie questions, looking at the drawing from across the table as he labels one _pantry._

"No," Andy answers. "It's a big place. This is the hallway I saw. There is more."

"And every time, they had you bring things into here?" Michonne asks, pointing to the pantry.

"So we're goin' in blind, essentially," I say. "That's fuckin' great."

"We brought a couple of spears for them," Andy continues. "Two of the Saviors took them down this hallway. Now, they must've done something with them because they didn't come back with them."

"Maybe a weapons locker," Jesus suggests.

"Exactly," I agree. "An armory. Swing a right at the end of this hallway." I look up at Glenn. "You, me, and Heath, that's the way we'll go. If we take the armory, those sons a bitches'll _kneel_ before us."

"That's how Carol ended it here," Maggie says, remembering the Invasion of Alexandria.

"But we don't know if they have an armory, or where it even is," Andy sighs.

"Well, we've got a lot of good guesses," Daryl says. "We've done more with less."

"We go in at night while they're sleeping," I say. "Use knives, keep it quiet."

"The guards won't be sleeping," Andy points out. "Like I said, I think there is only one way in and there is no way to bust through that door without waking up the rest of them."

"We don't need to," Rick says. "They're gonna open it for us. Let us walk right in."

"They want Gregory's head, right?" I question. "We're gonna give it to 'em." I get a look of concern and fear for their leader from Jesus and Andy. "Smokescreens, guys. It's all a facade."

* * *

As I lay awake, waiting for the sunrise, I find myself dreading it. Dreading what we're going to be doing tonight, after the sun has set. We have no other choice, that's true, but that doesn't mean I like going in, killing everyone. I don't _like_ killing, but if it's between them and me, then I'm gonna choose to live. _I've got too much to lose,_ I think as I look down at Carl, soundly asleep for the first time in a while beside me. _We can't lose anything, anyone else. I've gotta kill 'em all so we can be safe._

I wiggle out from under Carl's arm, careful not to wake him, and I press my lips to his forehead before pulling on my shoes. I take one last look at him over my shoulder before I gently close the door, then turn and walk downstairs, out onto the porch. I take a seat on the railing, pulling a cigarette out of the pack I grabbed and lighting it. "Those things'll give you cancer," a voice says from down the street.

"Yeah? So do all the good times," I reply, looking down at Jesus as he leans against the railing beside me. I mutter, "I got other things to worry 'bout."

"I suppose you do," he replies, tilting his head to look up at me. "You should be getting some sleep before tomorrow."

"I could say the same to you," I reply as he climbs up onto the railing beside me. I lower my cigarette, looking down at the scar that was left after I burned myself, when I thought Glenn was dead. When I felt nothing but guilt over him, and I just wanted to feel something, so I turned to the pain. Now, it's the exact opposite. I _wish_ I could feel nothing, knowing what we're about to do. I glance up at Jesus, who watches me, before asking, "Have you ever done something like this before?"

"No, never," he replies. "What about you?"

I nod slowly. "In Georgia, we found this place that we thought was safe. But it turned out to be full of cannibals. So we took 'em out. A few lived, and I was in Atlanta when they came for the rest of us. We lost one of ours to 'em, but we killed 'em all."

"You think we're gonna lose," Jesus says slowly. "Not the fight, but your people."

"Our people," I correct without thinking.

"Did you… did you just say 'our?'"

I hesitate to answer, procrastinating by putting the cigarette out, careful not to burn myself. When I glance back at Jesus, I find him waiting for an answer. I bite my lip, hesitating before I finally say, "We're in this together, that's what I mean."

"And here I thought I was starting to grow on you."

"Like a bad fungus, maybe," I scoff, but give him a small smile.

"Wow," Jesus laughs, feigning hurt. "And here I thought we had something special."

"In your dreams, Romeo."

"Does that make you Juliet?" Jesus questions, leaning closer.

"Jesus, oh Jesus, wherefore art thou an idiot?" I question, giving him a playful shove, but he ends up falling off the railing. I try my best not to laugh, trying not to break character. "Deny thy Negan and refuse thy Saviors. Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my knife, and I'll no longer be a survivor."

"Shall I hear more or shall I speak at this?" Jesus asks from his spot on the ground. He pushes himself up, getting to his feet. "I had no idea you were into such sophisticated things. First _Jekyll and Hyde_ , and now _Romeo and Juliet_?"

"Hey, I might be a Georgia homegrown Dixon, but that don't mean I ain't allowed to like theater. I mean, I played Sherrie in _Rock of Ages_ with my friend, Sebastian."

"Oh, you _are_ a theater kid. Most people only know the 'Romeo, oh Romeo' line, and not much of anything else."

"Two households, both alike in dignity, in fair Alexandria where we lay our scene," I quote, changing it to match our situation. I pause, then shake my head. "That's all I got."

"Eh, it wasn't too bad," Jesus says, climbing back up. "Hey, don't push me off again, yeah? That'd be nice."

"Shut up," I laugh, and my grin fades as I find myself wondering how I could smile, laugh, at a time like this, when we're about to go and massacre an entire group tomorrow. _In less than twenty-four hours._ I look up as Jesus as I tell him, "Thank you."

"For what?" he questions.

"For takin' my mind off what we're 'bout to do," I answer, my voice quiet as I try not to let him see how scared I am. He sees through the fake exterior, though, and wraps an arm around me.

"We're gonna make it, okay?" Jesus murmurs. He slides off the railing, landing on the ground. He holds up a hand, waiting for me to take it. "Come on. Come with me." I hesitantly take his hand, and he pulls me off the porch, down into the front lawn with him. He takes a seat, then lays on his back, patting the grass beside him. I sit down beside Jesus, and he pulls me down, making me lay beside him. "When I was little, my mom used to tell me that if I was ever scared, just look up at the sky. 'No matter if it's night or day, just look up, and it'll be okay.' That's what she always told me. Just wait for the sun to go down, for it to come up, whatever, and you'll make it through." Jesus props himself up on his elbow, leaning over me. "We'll make it through this, Clary. We will." With his free hand, he gestures up to the night sky above us. "Just look up."

I find myself looking up at him instead of the sky, trusting him over the stars to keep me going through tomorrow. He lets out a bit of a chuckle when I suddenly wrap my arms around him, burying my face in his neck. Jesus wraps one arm around me, using the other to keep himself up, from falling on me. "It's gonna be alright," he whispers. "We'll be okay. We all will. We'll make it through."

* * *

As we slow to a stop, the drivers press the horn, using the noise to draw any walkers nearby. Our big plan to trick the Saviors into thinking we killed Gregory is to find a walker that looks like him, and give them its head.

We climb out of the vehicles, breaking off into groups. "You know what to do," Rick calls from the lead. "Break off every quarter mile. We'll meet back here in a couple of hours, see what we got."

"Glenn, Heath!" I call, putting my shield on my arm. "Y'all _Rush Hour_ boys are with me!"

"The gang's back together, then," Heath says with a bit of a grin as we start off into the woods.

"Not all of us," Glenn mutters.

"That son of a bitch was _never_ one of us," I say, turning to look at him as we walk. "You gotta stop blamin' yourself for it. He wasn't ready. It's his own fault. And he nearly killed you."

Glenn's silent, and Heath adds, "She's right, you know. What happened then, it's not on you."

"I used his body to shield myself from them," Glenn says, speaking for the first time about what happened that day. When he got back, he refused to say how he survived. We all knew, or had a good guess, at least. But we never knew for sure, and he never wanted to speak of it. "I used… a man's body… to save myself."

"Glenn," I say, stopping and taking his hand in my free one. "Look at me, Glenn. Look at me. I need to know you're listenin'." After a moment, Glenn turns to me. "Nicholas was already dead. You had no other choice. He was dead, you were still alive, and you had to live. It's simple enough."

"Is it really that simple?"

"It's gotta be. If you haven't accepted what this world is, you die. Once you do, once you accept it, livin' becomes the priority."

"I hate to interrupt the bonding moment," Heath says, starting forward. "But we got walkers."

"You good, Short Round?" I question, using my shield to knock a walker back as I unsheathe my knife.

"Yeah," he says, joining Heath and I as we take down the few walkers that have stumbled upon us. We gather around one of them, Heath questioning, "What do you think?"

"Maybe," Glenn says, kneeling to get a better look at the walker. "If we, uh, cut the hair, trim the beard. If it's dark."

"We're gonna kill those people," Heath says as Glenn straightens, watching him. "Tonight. Look, I've been lucky. I haven't had to do it before. Have you?"

"I've been lucky, too," Glenn says.

"Looks like I drew the short straw," I sigh, glancing up at the sky. "Twenty-two." I close my eyes, tightening my grip on my knife as I force myself not to break. "I've taken the lives of twenty-two people. And tonight, it's gonna go up."

"You nervous?" Heath questions.

"Of course," I say, opening my eyes now.

Glenn asks, "Have you ever seen something that, um, afterwards, you… you didn't want to sleep and you weren't hungry because when you close your eyes… you could see it? And when you try to eat…"

"Yeah," Heath says.

"Me, too."

"I think we all have," I say.

"Killing somebody has got to be worse than that," Glenn says, looking up at Heath. "It has to be. So, yeah, I'm nervous. For the whole thing."

I drop to my knees, letting my knife drop to the ground beside me. "It's worse," I manage, my voice cracking as I let out a sob. "It's so much worse. Everything that they ever were, ever could be, is gone in a moment, like breath on a mirror. Just like that. They were just normal people like us, before it all. And now they're dead, 'cause of me. 'Cause I'm a selfish bitch that chose to keep on livin', instead of lettin' someone else live. Someone more worthy. If I could, I wouldn't hesitate to go back to the first day of this hell. I'd trade places with Sam in an instant. With Sebastian. Any one of 'em, just to keep 'em alive."

I close my eyes as Glenn kneels beside me, pulling me into a tight embrace. "If it's too much, you don't have to go in there, Clary," Glenn murmurs. "You don't have to fight."

"I do," I reply, shaking my head. "I gotta go in there, 'cause you'll die if I don't. You ain't never killed, Glenn. And to be quite honest, I don't think you're strong enough to. I have to go in so you don't gotta kill."

Glenn's silent for a few moments, then looks over at Heath, who carries the head of a walker that could resemble Gregory in one hand. "We should be getting back soon," Glenn tells us, getting to his feet. He takes my hand, telling me, "C'mon."

I follow them, sitting on the hood of a truck in silence once we return. When I see Daryl return with Jesus, I slide off the hood, heading over to them. I get a look of confusion from Daryl when I pass him, completely ignoring him as I take Jesus's arm. I pull the latest addition to this tragic affair off to the side, not meeting his eyes. "Clary?" Jesus asks. "Is everything okay? What's going on that you come to me and not your brother?"

"I'm trying, Jesus, I am," I tell him, looking up at him now. "But I can't do this no more. I just want it to be over. All of it. I said once that sixteen years ain't enough, but they're far too many for me. I want it to be over."

"No," Jesus argues. "No, Clary, listen to me. Always keep fighting. You _have_ to keep fighting, for them. Your group can't lose you. You're too damn important."

"I'm just a soldier. That's it. I'm a weapon. Screw me bein' Cap. I'm Bucky and they're Hydra."

"No, Clary, no. That's not what I meant," he says, shaking his head. "Yeah, you're an amazing fighter, but you bring so much more to the table. Your group cares about you so damn much, but you're too blind to see it. You're too absorbed with your self-hatred to see any of it. You're one of the most important people in this entire world to your family. You have to keep going. Promise me."

"I'm horrible at keeping promises, Jesus," I reply. "But I'll do what I can."

"Come on," Jesus says softly, holding out a hand towards me. "Rick's gathering everyone."

I take his hand, letting him lead me to where Rick stands with a few members of the group. I stick next to him, practically on his arm as the others begin to gather around us. "We're gonna take a look around," Rick tells us. "Try to get a feel for how many people are in there. We like how it looks, we go in. A couple of hours before dawn. The guards outside'll be tired. Everyone inside'll be sleeping. We don't like what we see, we head back, make a new plan. They don't know who we are. We'll keep Jesus in the shadows tonight. This is how we eat, we live. We roll out at midnight." Rick turns to me, as I had one of the largest parts in all of this. "Clary? Anything you want to add?"

"Daryl and I go first," I say, heads turning to look at me when I speak, a few people raising their eyebrows when they see how closely I'm standing to Jesus. They know I don't trust people easy, and I'm almost never this close to anyone. "We're the elite team. We take out the guards. We have guns, but we're fighting with knives tonight. That's the whole point of going in as quiet as we can. So keep your safety on, 'cause this is our one shot to live another day. We can't let any stray shots give us away."

"What about if we have to retreat?" Aaron questions. "Should we have a signal so we know when to?"

I think for a minute, then decide. "Rochambeau. That's the code word."

"You heard her," Rick says. "Jesus, with me."

As Rick walks off, Jesus hesitates to follow, looking down at me. I release my grip on his hand, but he gestures with a nod of his head for me to join him. I follow him as he starts to the front of the RV, where the heads of walkers with a resemblance close to Gregory are laid out in a line. "Take a look," Rick tells Jesus. "What've we got?"

Jesus looks at them for a few moments, then points to the one in the middle. "That one."

"Yeah, that's it," Andy agrees.

"Alright," Rick says.

"Though it's probably good we're doing this at night," Jesus says.

"Something wrong with it?"

"The nose. Gregory's is a different shape."

"Yeah, he's right," I agree, thinking back to the time Maggie and I spent making the deal. "His looks different."

"Hey, Clary," Rick says, glancing up at me from where he kneels beside the head. "You mind?"

I'm about ready to ask him what he means when he holds the head up, away from him, and it clicks. I throw a punch, the head swinging a bit in Rick's loose hold. "Tighten it up a bit," I say.

Rick adjusts his grip, and I throw two more punches at my heat of the moment punching bag. "Y'all say he fought back," I tell them, then glance over at Andy. "He broke your hand, right?"

"Guess there's no reason to be subtle about it," Jesus sighs.

"Shoulda seen what we did to Terminus," I say. "Explosions. Looked like Michael Bay directed it."

I glance over at Andy, who stares at Rick and I, and the former officer questions, "What?"

"Those Saviors, they're scary," he replies, turning to walk off. "But those pricks got nothing on you two."

"Should we take that as a complement?" I ask.

"That's the question, isn't it?" Rick sighs.

"You know what, I'm takin' it as a complement."

"Probably not how he meant it, but sure," Jesus says. "Take it as a complement." He looks down at me. "You good?"

"Don't got much of another choice." I look down at Rick's watch. "We got five hours 'till midnight. Best get your shit together 'fore then. If anyone freezes up in there, we're all dead."

* * *

 ** _~Glenn~_**

From the shadows, we watch as Andy drives up to the compound, the two guards barking out orders for him to stop, then to approach on foot with "Gregory's" head. After a tense moment, one of the guards throws the head into the grass, starting inside to retrieve Hilltop's man. At the edge of the building, just around the corner and out of sight, I can make out Clary and Daryl kneeling, waiting for the second man to disappear inside. Clary gives her brother a small push, urging him forward, and he takes out the man left outside with Andy. As she steps out of the shadows, into the eery light cast on the parking lot by the red lights, she raises her hand, waving us forward.

A small group of us run forward, moving the Savior's body out of the way while Andy takes his gun. While Daryl and the rest of us run back to where we were, Clary disappears between the bushes and the building, out of sight of the door. The second Savior emerges, Craig in tow, and Clary steps out from behind the bushes. She slices his neck, and he drops to the ground. Andy catches Craig, calming him down, as Clary drives her knife into the Savior's head. She lets out a whistle, not loud enough to wake or alert anyone inside, but loud enough to give us the clear, as well as the order to take the safety off our guns. Clary tosses a set of keys to her brother, who holds the door open as we file inside, weapons raised. Once inside, we start splitting off, my group momentarily following Rick's group of Daryl and Michonne, accompanied by Rosita and Aaron. I watch Clary as we walk, finding it odd seeing her without her signature crossbow, but she chose to leave it with the vehicles, knowing that she wouldn't have to reload a gun after every shot. She keeps her shield up, using the edge of it to balance her handgun. "Check the doors," Rick orders in a whisper. "Find the arsenal. We take them out."

As we come to a crossway, Rick's group still in the original corridor, Clary takes over giving orders. "Rosita, Aaron, you two go left," she whispers. "Heath, Glenn, you stay with me."

"Should we start at the other end or right here?" I inquire.

"Here," she replies. "If we go to the end, accidentally alert someone, then we'd have to get through these guys. No, you clear the end closest to the exit first, in case you gotta run." Clary holsters her gun, reaching for the handle of a door. "Guns up, but be ready to grab your knives. We don't got silencers."

I adjust my grip on my gun, swallowing the fear I have at killing after seeing what so much of it has done to the one I'd say is the strongest in our group, as she opens the door. Two men are inside, both sleeping. "Do you want me to?" Clary whispers, drawing her knife.

"No, we've got it," Heath replies, mirroring her action. Clary looks to me, and I give her a nod as I draw my knife. I get on my knees beside his cot, my knife hovering over his head. I take a deep breath, closing my eyes as I adjust my grip, preparing to end it. Just as I get ready to push down, Clary's hand closes around mine, guiding my hand down as the blade pierces his head. In my ear, Clary whispers, "It gets easier after the first one. The act of it, not what comes after. That doesn't change." She guides the knife out of his head, placing her free hand on my chin as she forces me to look at her. "Hey, hey, stay with me, okay? Stay strong." She looks back down at the Savior. "Two."

I take my knife back, getting to my feet as I see Heath on the other side of the room, hesitating to do it. I place my hand over his before he can end this Savior's life, and he steps away, giving me a look of gratitude as I dirty my hands so he doesn't have to. I plunge my knife into the Savior's head, doing it on my own this time. "Heath," Clary whispers, standing with him by the doorway. "Hey, you don't gotta, okay? We… I can do it. I can do it all. You ain't comfortable with it, and that's okay. But if one's comin' at you, you can't hesitate."

"Clary," I breath, staring at the pictures hung above the Savior's bed. "Clary, look at this."

"What is—" Clary starts, then cuts herself off as she sees the pictures. " _Holy shit._ These sons a bitches deserve this."

Nearly two dozen polaroids, taped to the wall, of people with, well, their heads bashed in. Pictures of the brutal murders of many. "What could do something like this?" I whisper. "Who would?"

"A sick bastard," Clary answers after a moment. "And I don't know. But if that's the aftermath, I'd hate to see what happens during." She takes my arm, tugging me away from the pictures. "Come on. We've got more rooms to check."

We start down the hall, separating further from the others. We all freeze, looking up or around at each other when the alarms start blaring. "Shit," Clary breathes, putting her knife away and drawing her gun. "Go for the armory. I'll cover you." She faces the opposite end of the hallway, using her shield to cover herself as she aims her gun. "They're comin'."

I pull Heath with me through a door as they come around the corner, firing. Clary drops into a crouch so they don't shoot her legs, and returns fire, taking down two of the group. "Clary!" Heath barks.

"Just go!" she shouts, putting her head down behind the shield as they fire at her. "Get out of here!"

"No!" I yell to her. "Not without you!"

Heath fires on the Savior, providing cover for Clary as she runs and joins us. We take off, Heath covering us from behind as we run. "There!" Clary barks, gesturing to a door at the end of the hallway. "Shoot the lock!"

We fire at the door as we get closer, and I push it open, hitting the deck once I'm inside, and Clary throws her shield down beside me. "Heath!" Clary yells, firing around him at the Saviors that chase us. "C'mon!"

As soon as he's in, they slam the door shut, dropping down beside me. We cover our heads as gunfire rings out, getting closer. Gunfire suddenly erupts from inside the armory, and I open my eyes to see Clary on the ground between us, firing the first gun she grabbed at the door. Heath and I grab the first guns we can reach, getting to our feet as we fire, not wanting to let Clary do it alone. When no more gunfire rings out, we lower our guns, Heath pulling Clary to her feet, and she looks around before remarking, "Well, we found the armory."

"Is now really the best time to be joking?" I question, reaching for the door. I push it open to find the bodies of the group chasing us, blood splattered on the walls, the floor slick with it. Clary barks out a warning, and before she can even finish, there's a gunshot. The man that was leaning against the wall slumps to the side, gun falling to the ground. Clary looks around at the bodies before us, saying, "That's nine. Tonight alone."

"Jesus," Heath says, and we follow his gaze to the man himself. He stands in silence, looking down at the man he killed before up at us. As he pulls the mask away from his face, Jesus solemnly says, "This is the next world."

"No," Clary says, stepping out of the armory, towards him. " _This_ is the world _now_. The world is ugly, but it's what we're livin' in. I don't know what the next one'll be. Hell, I don't know if I'll be there to see it. I don't know if any of us will. But what you call the next world is the one we're livin' in, 'cause we just gotta move on to the one after that. We've just gotta finish this level, and then we can go to the next. And that one, it might be a place worse than this, but I wanna think it'll be one better. Law of averages have gotta catch up."

Jesus is quite, his eyes closed as he processes her words. I look past Clary, watching him, but our attentions snaps to her when she lets out a cry. We find her on the ground, one of the Saviors that we thought to be dead on top of her, knife to her throat. "Glenn," she chokes out.

We raise our guns, but the Savior barks, "I'll kill the bitch!" We all freeze, knowing how dangerous people are when they're cornered. "Drop 'em!" We hesitate. "I said, drop 'em! I'll kill her!"

I drop my gun first, and Heath and Jesus follow suit. The Savior pulls Clary with him as he gets up, backing away from us, around Jesus and down the hall. For a second, I think I imagine it, but when I look in Clary's eyes, I know I wasn't imagining her whimper of fear as his knife cut into her throat. I take a step forward, and the Savior shifts the knife in his hand, causing Clary to cry out as more blood appears on the blade. "Back up," he orders. "I'll slit the bitch from ear to ear."

I don't move any further, and the Savior seems satisfied, so he limps on, keeping his hostage in front of him as he backs up. When he reaches the corner, he throws her to the ground, turning to run before we can grab our guns and shoot. He doesn't even make it around the corner before a gunshot rings out behind me. I turn, surprised, to find Heath standing with his gun raised. I look at him in shock, at how he couldn't kill the Savior in the room, but didn't hesitate when one was threatening Clary. Threatening one of us. I shake off my shock as Jesus and Heath take off to where Clary lays on the ground, not moving. I arrive as Jesus kneels beside her, gently helping her sit up before he moves her hand away from her neck to look at the cut. He pulls off the mask he had been wearing, reaching up to press it against her throat. Clary lets out a whimper of fear, jerking away from him. "Please, not again," she whispers, eyes wide.

"Jesus, keep it away from her face," I tell him. "After Woodbury, things like that scare the hell out of her."

"I gotta stop the bleeding, okay? On your neck," Jesus tells her, quietly informing her of everything he's going to do, waiting to give her a chance to object. Clary lets out a hiss of pain as he presses the black bandanna against her throat. After a minute or two, he pulls it back, and I see a cut about two inches long, still bleeding. Jesus curses under his breath, tying the cloth around Clary's neck. "There, that should be good until we get outta here," Jesus tells her, then looks down at his handiwork with bit of a grin. "Keep it, Clary. It looks good on you."

Clary reaches up to touch the bandanna tied around her neck. "Yeah, if I wanna look like I'm from _Scooby Doo._ "

Jesus scoffs, and his voice softens as he questions, "Are you alright?"

Clary slowly nods, her eyes on Heath. "Thank you," Clary says as Jesus helps her to her feet. Heath won't look her in the eye, and when she notices this, she says, "Hey, Heath. Look at me." He does. "You had to, alright? He was either gonna kill me or get away. Simple enough, alright? You do what you have to do, and then we get to feel it. But not until after the fight is over. And I don't think this fight is over yet."

"But they're all dead," Heath says. "It's over, isn't it?"

"Every time we've gone against something, and we thought it was over, I had this feelin' that it wasn't. And, well, I've been right. I said the Governor would be back, and he was. Woodbury might've burned to the ground, but he still came back, and he killed Hershel. The Terminus people, I said they'd be back, and they killed Bob. In Atlanta, as we were walkin' away, I thought, 'This is too good to be true.' And then… And then Beth was killed. I'm sayin' this ain't over, and it ain't over."

Clary starts back into the armory, reloading her handgun, and we follow her, doing the same. "You guys meet up with Rick and 'em," she orders. "I'm gonna go check on Carol and Maggie."

"Stay safe," I tell her, catching her arm before she can push past Heath, Jesus, and I.

Clary wraps an arm around me, kissing my cheek before pulling away. "I'll do my best, Short Round." Clary pulls Heath, who's slightly shocked at the contact, into a one armed hug before kissing his cheek as well. "That goes for you, too, Skittles. Don't do anythin' dumb." He nods quickly, and Clary faces Jesus in the doorway. "You gonna move, bearded wonder?" Jesus steps aside, and Clary pauses as she passes him. He holds out a hand for her to shake, but she passes it entirely and hugs him instead. Jesus pauses for barely a second before returning the gesture, and Clary kisses him as well before she releases him. "Be careful, all y'all. We're family, and I don't wanna bury mine again."

"Wait!" I call after her, picking up her shield, the paint now scuffed even more than before due to the gunfire. "What about your shield?"

"Get it back to me later," she answers, turning to look back at me. "Take care of it, and it'll bring you luck." Clary turns, walking away now. "You need it more than I do."

"Clary, wait," I say, and she stops again. "Come back to us."

"For you," she says, "a thousand times over."


	12. Chapter 11: Once More Into the Fray

_**Chapter 11: Once More Into the Fray**_

 _ **~Clary~**_

As I run through the woods, pushing branches out of my way, I hope like hell that no group has gotten out of the compound and retreated into the woods. And if they have, that they haven't found Carol and Maggie. I stop in my tracks when I hear the gunshot, the sound echoing through the trees. I turn on my heel after realizing that I've been running the wrong way, heading towards the gunshot. "Carol!" I yell, hoping that she or Maggie were the ones that fired the shot on a Savior, and not the other way around.

"Someone's coming!" I hear a shout, and I drop to the ground as they fire into the trees, covering my head with my arms. I slowly look up when the gunfire stops, only to find a handgun trained on me, about a foot from my head.

"Get to your feet," the old woman growls, keeping her gun trained on me as I do so. I look past her into the woods, seeing the guns of two other women being aimed at Carol and Maggie, a man holding his arm by them. I look back to the first woman as she orders, "Put your weapons on the ground."

I put my handgun on the ground, then my hunting knife. When I go on missions like this, to unknown places, I always keep my switchblade tucked into my boot, in case I'm taken again like I was in Woodbury. I don't remove the switchblade, keeping it hidden as I'm marched over to Carol and Maggie.

Time crawls on, the alarm eventually stopping as the sun begins to rise. Hours have passed, easily, when something new happens. As the old woman, whom I've learned is called Molly, ties a tourniquet around the arm of the man Carol shot, Donnie, gunfire erupts yet again from the compound.

"It's Primo," the redheaded woman in charge of the group says as she watched through a pair of binoculars. "Dammit, they've got him. Give me the walkie."

"What's happening?" Donnie questions, handing over the walkie. "Paula?"

Into the walkie, Paula orders, "Lower your gun, prick. You, with the Colt Python." _Rick._ "All of you, lower your weapons right now."

A moment later, Rick's voice comes through the walkie. "Come on out. Let's talk."

"How many we got?" Molly questions.

"Eight, in sight," Paula answers. "Too many."

"No, we can take 'em," Donnie argues. "We took more."

At that, I laugh. The Saviors look at me in confusion, while Carol and Maggie look at me like I'm insane. "You think you can take us?" I question, still laughing. "Oh, darlin', that's adorable."

"Shut it," Paula snaps, then speaks to Rick. "We're not coming out, but we will talk." To us, she orders, "Names."

Carol hesitates, but complies and gives over her name after Maggie does it first. Paula looks at me, and I snap, "To hell with you, you ain't gettin' my name."

"We've got a Carol and a Maggie," Paula says into the walkie. "I'm thinking that's something you want to chat about."

"You fuckers," I snap. "You made the worst mistake of your worthless lives, takin' us. The last, too, if you don't let us go, you fuckin' leprechaun."

"Oh, good Lord, I'm ready to get rid of her," Paula sighs. Into the walkie, she says, "We've got a back talking teenager, too. Now, we're gonna work this out right now, and it's going to go our way."

"You can see we have one of yours," Rick says. "We'll trade."

"I'm listening."

"First, I want to talk to the girls. Make sure they're alright."

Paula turns to us. "I'm gonna put you on. You say you're fine. I'll know if you try anything else."

Paula gives it to Carol first, who says, "Rick, it's Carol. I'm fine, but—"

She pulls the walkie away, giving it to Maggie. "Rick, it's Maggie. We're both okay. We'll figure this—"

Paula tells her to shut it, then passes it over to me. "Rochambeau _,_ kemosabe," I say, hoping that Daryl actually listens for once, knowing that they need to get the hell out of there. There could be more Saviors than just the ones out here in these woods, maybe more on their way. "Dig me?"

You got your proof," Paula says, taking the walkie away. "Let's talk."

"Alright, this is the deal," Rick says. "Right here. Let 'em go, you can have your guy back and live."

"Three for one? That's not much of a trade."

"You don't have another choice. Or else you would've done something about it already."

"We have to get him back," Donnie says, still keeping one hand on his injured arm.

"Primo can take care of himself," Paula says.

"He can patch me up. I need him." He glances over at Carol. "Thanks to that bitch. You lost your balls, Paula. You should've shot her in the head so they could hear her die."

I shift on my feet, my uneasiness growing more as he says that. Three months ago, if I had stayed in that hospital, we would've been in this exact position. We nearly were. Hammering out a trade for Carol and one of the Greene girls. Now, here I am, standing captive beside Carol and the last Greene. And our people still aren't retreating.

Paula says, "If you could just shut up, I'll solve this."

"Then make the deal or we go in," Donnie replies.

"She said shut up, so shut it," Molly snaps. "You should be glad she doesn't have a sack of gonads to trip over."

Over the walkie, Rick says, "Look, I know you're talking it over. It's a fair trade. Just come out, we do this, we all walk away."

"Smug prick," the dark haired girl holding her gun on us snaps. "Must think we're stupid."

"That's a good thing," Paula says, then glances over towards us as a walker growls from behind me. I turn as it arrives, roundhousing it in the head to knock it down. The dark haired girl's gun shifts to me as I stomp the walker's head in, then look up when I see they're watching me. "What?" I ask.

"Do we have a deal?" Rick asks, grabbing their attention again.

"I'll get back to you." To the girl, Paula says, "You know what to do, Michelle."

To my left, the dark haired girl, Michelle, puts Maggie's jacket over her head, blocking her vision. She moves onto Carol, doing the same, and then to me. Just before the hood covers my eyes, I steal one more glance at the sky, just in case it's my last. _Well, you know what they say,_ I think to myself as my vision goes dark. _Take a look to the sky just before you die, it's the last time he will._

* * *

After a short car ride, where they duct taped our hands together and we're gagged, we're pulled out of the car and marched into a building. "I hate this place," the old woman, Molly, says, and I can hear the growling of walkers nearby. "Safe house."

"This place is gonna save our asses," Paula replies. A door squeaks as it opens, the sound of one walker growling growing louder. My hood is ripped off just in time for me to see Paula stick a knife through the head of a walker, barely inches from Maggie. We're pushed to the ground, away from each other. Maggie and Carol are both sitting against a wall, while I'm forced to the ground between them. I study both of them for a moment before realizing that I'm the only one with my hands taped behind my back, instead of in front, like their hands. _Oh, that's going to make this a whole hell of a lot harder._

I watch as Paula kneels beside Carol, duct taping her ankles together now. "You're wondering if there's a way out of this," Paula says, looking over at her. "There isn't. Not unless I say so."

She moves onto Maggie, taping her ankles together without a word. "Paula!" one of the women shout as the redhead gets to her feet. "We could use some help!"

Paula sighs, putting her bag on her back. "I want to kill you three right now," she says, starting out the door. "It's taking all I have not to, so go ahead, try something. I dare you. See what happens."

Realizing that she didn't tape my ankles, I pull my feet back, sitting Indian style. In the distance, there's gunfire, as Maggie and Carol look for something to use to free themselves. Maggie chooses the tiled corner of a wall, trying to saw the duct tape off, while Carol reaches for the cross necklace that got hooked on her foot from when Molly dragged the walker out. I watch her as she puts it in her pocket, saving it for later use. In the distance, the gunfire has stopped, and I hear footsteps approaching the room. "Maggie," I say through the gag, or at least try to. "Mag, they're comin'!"

She settles back into the same spot she was before, then we turn our attention to Carol when we hear her rapid breathes, signalling she's hyperventilating. I look back over to Maggie to find her watching Carol with equal concern, not sure if she's putting on a show or is actually freaking out. Knowing that there's nothing I can do right now to help her, I hang my head, listening as the door opens and the Saviors step through. Paula questions, "When's the last time anyone checked this place?"

"It was fine a month ago," Michelle replies, closing the door behind them.

"Sweetie, that was a month ago," Molly snaps. "Shit hits quick. The guns have gone bye-bye, the food's gone bye-bye, and we got growlers up and down the halls."

"Means people can get through, too," Donnie says. "Maybe we should get gone."

"Carol!" Maggie shouts through her gag, but it's muffled.

"Where would we go?" Michelle questions.

"Nowhere," Paula replies. "Got dead in the halls? More like free security. Those assholes get here before our people, the cold bloods will buy us some time." To Carol, she snaps, "Shut up!"

I lift my head, looking up at them as Paula kneels beside Donnie, struggling to get his arm to stop bleeding. Maggie keeps trying to get their attention, to no avail. Finally, Paula turns and pulls her gag off. "She's hyperventilating," Maggie says. "Somebody needs to take her gag off."

Paula looks around at her companions before Molly shrugs, starting over to take the gag off. "She's a nervous little bird, ain't she?"

It doesn't quite help her, but it does allow her to take in a bit more air. "Hey!" I say through the gag in my mouth. "Hey, you!" The old woman leans down with a sigh, pulling my gag off. "Cut the tape. She ain't calmin' down." The Saviors look down at me like I'm an idiot for thinking they'd fall for something like that. "C'mon, you think I'm an idiot? I ain't stupid enough to try somethin'. Tape 'em back up afterwards, but just cut it for right now." Paula gives a nod, and Molly leans down behind me, cutting the tape. "Jesus." I scramble away from her, over to Carol. I rest my hands on her face, forcing her to look at me as I rest my forehead against hers. "Carol, hey, listen to me, Carol," I whisper. "C'mon, listen. Breathe with me, okay? Deep breaths. Breathe with me." I take a deep breath, and she does the same. "Good, Carol, that's good. One more." After a few more deep, slow breaths, Carol's breathing steadies out. "There you go. It's alright, Carol. We're gonna be alright."

The redheaded bitch, Paula, barks out a laugh. "You really think that? Oh, honey, then you're gonna be the one to die first."

"Then kill me and spare them," I say, releasing Carol. "Do whatever you want to me, but don't touch them. Don't hurt Carol, and God, please don't touch Maggie. Don't hurt the baby."

Michelle, who had her gun trained on me, turns it on Maggie. I shift on my feet, trying to draw her attention away from Maggie. "She got a bun in the oven, she doesn't look it," Donnie says.

"I'm only two months, I think," Maggie says.

"You're some kind of stupid, getting knocked up at a time like this," Paula says, and I stand still as Molly retapes my hands, in front this time. I try not to smirk, as it'll be easier to get out of the duct tape this way. "What, you think that's funny?"

"When was it ever smart to get knocked up?" Maggie replies. "Women used to just die in childbirth." I close my eyes as I'm forced back to my knees, not even bothering to fight as I think of Lori. "And they always thought that the world was gonna end. Living through it, why would you just give up?"

"But are you gonna live through it? Anyway, that's cute. Babies are the point. Children are our future." Paula leans down next to me, taking my chin as she forces my head up. "Guess that's what this little bitch will grow into." She releases her hold on my chin, slapping me as she straightens. Not enough to make me fall, but enough to enforce that she's the queen bitch of this joint. "Our future. Yeah right. Making bite-size snacks for the dead. The point is to stay standing."

"No," Maggie argues. "Walkers do that. I'm choosing something."

"That's right. You are. You did."

With that, Paula turns and walks out, leaving us with the other Saviors. Behind me, Molly lights up a cigarette, immediately coughing the second it touches her lips. "The baby," Carol objects once her coughing fit is over.

Molly lets out a laugh mixed with a cough. "Honey, in case you haven't noticed, you've got bigger problems than a little secondhand smoke."

"Hey, she gives me hell for smokin' when Judy ain't even in the damn house," I mutter, causing Maggie to chuckle softly.

"Molly," Michelle says.

Molly sighs, leaning down beside me to put it out. I flinch back, thinking she's going to use me for a damn ashtray like Will used to, but she puts it out on the ground. "Y'all are worse than a bunch of evangelical second graders," she remarks, stalking off to her corner near the door, where she hacks into a cloth.

"Those things'll kill you," Carol tells her.

"They already have," Molly replies, looking down at her cloth. "I'm a dead woman walking. Which puts us in exactly the same boat."

"You," Michelle says. "The young one."

"Dixon," I say, looking up at her. "That's all you need to know 'bout me."

"Your neck," she says. "The cloth that's tied around it. You ain't bit, are you?"

"You serious?" Molly questions, starting over to me. "We took a dead one hostage? Shit."

"I ain't bit," I say, noticing the look of panic on Maggie's face after I hear the gun cocked behind me. "Jesus, woman, you trigger happy or what? For fuck's sake, put it down. I was cut, not bit." I gesture up to the bandanna Jesus tied. "I'd show you, but he tied it tight. That, and it was bleedin' like hell, so I kinda need to keep it tied, ya dig? It's from a knife. If I was bit, I wouldn't be here to have this conversation. I'd be dead by now. Granted, I'd take some of y'all down 'fore I went out. I mean, I already killed nine of ya today. Yesterday. Whatever day it was. Point is, they're dead. 'Cause when you really look at it, in the cold light of day, you're pretty much dead already."

* * *

About ten minutes pass before Paula returns, Donnie still whining about the pain in his arm. "My arm feels like it's on fire," he says.

"You pull that off, you're gonna be nothing but a spigot," Molly tells him, noticing he's messing with the rope tied around his arm.

"Hold on," Paula tells him, readjusting the makeshift tourniquet. "Scout crew's coming. They're thirty minutes out, maybe less."

"He doesn't have thirty minutes," Maggie says, and I find myself wondering if we're in the same boat as Donnie. If we don't have thirty minutes left to live. "His nerves are dying. If he doesn't get medical help, he's gonna lose his arm, maybe his life. I'm not a doctor, but my dad lost his leg, and I know that much. Your man, Primo, you think he can help you? It's time to end this. Talk to Rick."

Paula acts as though Maggie never spoke, telling Donnie, "Thirty minutes."

She steps away from his, watching out the window in the door for walkers or people. I look over as Donnie gets to his feet, saying, "You know my problem?" He looks down at Carol as he steps forward. "She did this to me. She did it and she's just sitting there right as rain, fully intact."

"Hey," Paula warns.

"No, you're not gonna make the trade. And we just do 'em all now."

I stay on my knees, but bring one foot up, ready to push up if it gets out of hand. "No," Paula tells him. "We wait for the others. We have to be smart. We need insurance."

"Then shoot her in the arm, too."

"No."

"You're really gonna stick up for some gutless bitch over me?" He suddenly grabs his arm, groaning. "Goddammit!"

"Shut up," Paula sighs.

"Don't push me! Don't push me, Paula!"

"Shut up," she repeats, starting over to him. Suddenly, he straightens, backhanding her as he does so. She falls to the ground, and Donnie turns to Carol.

"Leave her alone!" Maggie cries, trying to kick his feet out from under him.

Donnie falls to the ground, then gets to his feet, taking Maggie by her hair and making her face him. "You dumb, uppity bitch!" he snaps.

"She ain't the bitch here!" I bark, kicking his wrist. He lets out a cry, releasing his hold on Maggie, and she falls back. Donnie takes a handful of my hair, and I suppress a cry as he pulls on it. "Whine about this, asshat!"

I headbutt him, and he stumbles back. Carol tries to wrap her arms around his leg, preventing him from attacking us again, but he turns on her, kicking her, and she curls into a ball to protect herself. I jump in before he can land a third kick, using a kick of my own to take him down. Seeing as he's nearly a foot taller than me, I have to jump, but I fall back down, unbalanced. As I scramble to my feet, ready for another fight, I see that he's on the ground, unconscious. "Well, hell, looks like we got a fighter here," Molly laughs.

"Those days when nothin' bad happened, I was trainin'. In the days of peace, I was preparin'. I didn't let myself go soft, so I kept my guard up, taught myself new ways to fight." I sigh, knowing that the fight's over. For the moment, at least. "'Sides, y'all miss the beatin' I gave that walker?"

"You really are some kind of stupid," Paula says, rubbing her cheek, then looks at me. "You're just some kind of crazy." She turns to Michelle, then gestures to Maggie. "Take her out, see if she knows anything. Should've done that before." She looks down at Donnie, then up at me. "Looks like you beat me to the punch, kid."

Michelle cuts the tape on Maggie's ankles, roughly shoving her out of the room. Seeing that they're not going to attack me, I kneel beside Carol, pulling her up. "You alright?" I question.

Carol nods slowly, while Molly steps up to look at the cut on Paula's cheek. "He got you good, kid," Molly tells her.

"He's in pain," Paula replies with a sigh. "Guys can't handle pain." I find myself chuckling at that, and she turns to look at me. "What?"

"Oh, nothin'," I say. "It's just, my brother…" I shake my head. "Oh, it's funny as hell when he hurts himself. I once saw him cuss out a Coke bottle after it broke."

Paula snorts at that, then sighs when Carol says, "Excuse me? I know you were ready to jump in, so I wanna say thanks for that. For helping Maggie, for helping me." She glances up at me. "That goes for you, too." Carol looks back at Paula and Molly. "My husband, Ed, he used to—"

"Yeah?" Paula snaps, cutting her off. "I don't care if your old man used to ring your bell. I see exactly who you are, Carol. I know. You're pathetic. You wanna think we're just the same? Go ahead. You're wrong." Paula looks down at Donnie. "He's just a warm body for my bed. That's it. I could kill him in my sleep." I step away, watching Paula carefully as she steps forward. She looks down at the rosary Carol holds, which I dug out of her pocket for her earlier. "Do you really believe in that crap?"

"Faith got me through the death of my daughter," Carol replies, and I drop to my knees, the sight of Sophia stumbling out of the barn, the gunshot, flashing before my eyes.

"Hmm. Well, the good news is maybe you'll see her again soon."

"Like hell she will," I whisper.

Paula turns to me. "What was that?"

I lift my eyes up to meet hers, repeating, "Like hell she will, you stupid bitch. I ain't lettin' my blood die today, not by a long shot. If anyone's dyin' today, it's gonna be y'all. But if one of us bites it, then I'm makin' damn well sure it's me. They ain't dyin' yet. Me? I couldn't give a damn if I lived or not. Why the hell do you think I led the raid against y'all? 'Cause I'm ready to die. You can kill me right now, as long as you swear not to touch them."

Paula smirks. "You know, I'm half tempted to take you up on that offer." She bends down, sticking her face in mine. "But I don't make promises I won't keep, sweetie." Paula straightens. "But that's cute. The self-sacrifice. The _heroic_ thing. The villain turning out to be more of a hero in the end."

"I ain't no hero," I say. "But here I go again. This is the last good fight I'll ever know."

"You really are ready to die, aren't you?" Paula questions."You know, the trade might work a bit better if it's two for one." She draws her gun. "Any last words?"

I'm silent for a moment, thinking, before I remember my words with Jesus two nights previous. I lift my eyes, staring down the barrel of her gun. "Tempt not a desperate man... Put not another sin upon my head."

I close my eyes, bowing my head as I wait for her to pull the trigger.

"No!" Carol shouts, and Rick's voice cuts through the room.

" _Have you thought about it? Talk to me."_

Paula lowers her gun, reaching for the walkie. "You've got the strangest luck I've ever seen." She raises the walkie to her mouth, addressing Rick now. "You weren't listening. I said I'd contact you."

"Would it make a difference if I said I was sorry about that?" Rick questions.

"What do you think?"

"I think we're gonna make the trade, so tell me where."

"We haven't agreed to that."

"You will."

"You know what? I'm not so sure. We'd be taking most of the risk, not getting much in the way of a reward."

"You get your man and y'all live," I say. "That's the reward. Livin'. We keep our promises, and if the deal says y'all get to live, y'all live. Otherwise, we'd kill every last one of you."

"Like you did the rest of us?" Paula snaps, turning and backhanding me. "You don't speak!"

"Hey, watch it!" Rick barks from the walkie, and I realize he heard everything that just happened. "You keep treatin' 'em like that, and we'll be less lenient. The other option won't work out for you."

"We'll take our chances," Paula replies, then hangs up, so to speak.

"You don't have to do this," Carol tells her. "You don't have to fight."

"Your people killed all of my people," Molly snaps. "Of course we gotta fight."

"We didn't want to."

"But you did," Paula says. "So tell me why."

"Your people ambushed my people on the road, tried to take everything we had. They were gonna kill them."

"Well, damn," Molly sighs. "So now we know what happened to T's group. Those idiots. Probably put on a big show."

"Okay, fair play," Paula says. "You were just defending yourselves. But, see, your people killed them on the road, right? Blew them to pieces. So, why not stop?"

"They said they were workin' for Negan," I say.

"And what do you think you know about Negan?"

"He sounded like a damn maniac. My people were scared. We had to protect ourselves. We had to stop him. _I_ had to. I had to protect them, and to do that, I had stop him."

"Oh, sweetie," Molly says. "We are all Negan."

"What do you mean?" Carol questions. "What does that mean?"

She gets no answer, and I look up at Molly beside me. "Think you can spare a dead girl a smoke?" I ask. "You know, last meal type thing."

Molly pulls out a cigarette from the carton, handing it down to me before lighting it for me. "The way you talk," she says. "Say certain words. Thing, you say it like 'thang.' 'Y'all.' Where are you from?"

"Georgia, born and raised," I reply. "Small town, not much to do. Hell, we still had drive-ins and diners. Don't get me wrong, I can dig Elvis. Lotta people hated it, but not many people left. Even less came." I smile softly. "Sam was what made it bearable."

"Who's that? Your boyfriend?"

"Nah, he was my friend 'fore all this. But he wished. I mean, I knew he did. It wasn't like some teen drama shit. The main character, a social outcast, and her nerdy best friend that's had a crush on her since they met. It all comes to light when a new boy moves to the small town, or the popular athlete notices her. That's all bullshit, man. Like y'all thinkin' you're gonna live."

"Excuse me?" Paula questions, turning to look at me.

"Hey, I don't mean us. If we don't get you today, who's to say that the deadheads don't punch your ticket tomorrow? Thinkin' you're gonna live through it, till the end, it's bullshit."

"At this rate, you won't live through it."

"That's alright by me. But, well, hell, I'm takin' as many of you low-life sonsabitches as I can down with me."

"Are you saying you're gonna kill us?"

"You know, I fuckin' hope so. Y'all nearly killed my blood 'fore. And I don't like people threatenin' my blood. That's why I led the raid. Get my revenge. And y'all better know, I make damn well sure that I take _revenge._ "

* * *

"Asshole, you there?" Paula questions.

"I'm here," Rick replies.

"We've thought about it," she tells him. "We want to make the trade."

"That's good."

"There's a large field with a sign that says 'God is dead' about two miles down I-66. Good visibility in all directions."

"We'll meet you there. Ten minutes?"

"Ten minutes," Paula confirms, and as I listen to the conversation, I realize something. _There's no static. They're close._ She lowers the walkie, shaking her head. "Now, that was too easy."

"Maybe they're just itching to get their people back," Molly says with a shrug.

"No, there was no static. There should've been static. They're close. They're probably already here. We were careful, but there were tracks. There had to be. They killed everybody back home. They have the weapons. They know what they're doing. They're probably waiting to kill us as soon as we walk out those doors. That's what we'd do."

"No," Carol argues. "You have to listen to me, please. Rick is a man of his word. He wouldn't put me and Maggie and Clary at risk to attack."

"Then he's just as stupid as you are." Paula pulls out her walkie, switching to another channel as she radios the scout crew. "What's your ETA?"

"A few minutes away, but the car is running on fumes," a man replies.

"We have gas. We'll fill you up and then we move. Radio when you're back in the perimeter."

"Copy that."

"We gotta get ready," Paula tells Molly, picking up her bag before she starts towards the door. "Pull Michelle out so she doesn't get stuck in a fight. We have to be ready to move at any second."

"What about the girls?" Molly asks.

"Leave her for now. If we leave, we travel light. And if the pricks are here, we pick 'em off at the door."

Paula opens the door, quickly taking out the two walkers at the door. Molly follows her out, closing the door behind her and leaving Carol and I alone. I close my eyes, forgetting about sight to try to focus on my other senses, namely hearing. I listen as the footsteps of the Saviors fade, before I look up at Carol. "Let's do this," I say.

I get to my feet, Carol watching me as I break the duct tape on my hands. "I didn't know you could do that," she says.

"Not many people do," I say, peeling the duct tape away from my wrists. "You wouldn't be able to. It works if it's around the wrists, not the entire hand." I dig in my boot for my knife, kneeling beside Carol. "Here, I got it."

"You always have that on you," she mutters, looking down at the switchblade as I free her.

"It's all I got left," I whisper, looking down at it. "It was Merle's." I pull her to her feet, starting for the opposite door. "C'mon, let's get Maggie."

I lead the way through the halls, and we look in each room through the window on the doors, and I pull her back against a wall when I hear a body drop from around the corner, one walker still growling. I hear Molly say, "Just a sec, sugar."

I hold out a hand, silently telling Carol to wait, until I hear Molly leave. I gesture in one direction, and we start off in said direction. "Clary," I hear Carol whisper, and I turn to see her at a door across the hall. "She's here."

"She alone?" I ask, and she nods. She slides open the door, and I step through, telling Maggie, "Hands. Let's go."

She holds up her hands, and I cut them, stepping back as Carol pulls her into a hug. "Are you okay?" Maggie questions.

"I have to be," Carol replies, pulling her to her feet. "They're spread out, but I think we can make it past them. We have to try."

"We can't leave them alive," Maggie argues.

"No, we should just go," Carol replies.

"It ain't over till they're all dead," I say. "We kill 'em all. It ain't finished yet. If you won't fight, then you get your ass out. I can't have a liability when we're takin' 'em on."

"C'mon," Maggie says, pushing past me and into the hall, heading towards the room where Carol and I were held. She kneels beside the still unconscious Donnie, taking the rope from his arm. Immediately, he begins bleeding. Maggie feels for his pulse, then glances up at us. "He was already dead. He's turning."

"We should go," Carol tries.

"No," I say. "We need a gun." I take the rope from Carol. "I got an idea."

I tie one end of the rope around his belt, the other end to a pipe near the door. He lets out a growl as I step away, watching as he gets to his feet. "Take 'em out, Donnie," I say, closing the door on him after Carol and Maggie are out of the room.

We hide, waiting, for one of the Saviors to return. After a few minutes, I see Molly making her way down the hall. She steps inside the room, and immediately lets out a cry of pain. I smirk. _It's working._ The growls stop, signalling she killed the walker, but she's been bit. "Come out!" Molly calls. "I wanna bloody up that nice—"

Maggie suddenly takes her from behind, taking the gun from her hand and hitting her in the head with it. Molly falls to the ground, and I watch as Maggie bashes her head in with the gun. She hands it to Carol, closing the door behind her as we step out. "Let's go," she says.

Maggie and I lead the way through the halls, coming to a halt when the hallway is blocked by walkers lying on the ground, some of them impaled on spikes. "They're using them to keep us in," Carol says. "Keep the others out."

"We have to find 'em," I say, stepping aside to let Maggie take out a walker that was free and stumbling towards us. We duck down as gunshots ring out, lifting our heads when the trigger clicks, signalling that the shooter is out of ammo. Carol aims her gun at Paula as she approaches, begging, "Just run."

"Shoot her," I order.

"Go on," Paula says. "Do it. You've killed Donnie, you've killed Molly. Your people have destroyed my home."

"Get outta here," Carol tries.

"Carol," Maggie says.

"You have no idea," Paula continues, stepping towards us. "The things I've done, what I've given up, what I had to do."

"Oh, boohoo, princess," I snap, stepping forward, seeing that Carol won't pull the damn trigger. "We've all had to do shit."

"Just run," Carol pleads.

"Go ahead, shoot me," Paula says. "I've lost everything."

Carol lets out a cry, and I duck down as she fires, hitting Paula in her shoulder. Maggie quickly takes down the walker that grabbed her, but didn't bite, and then starts after Michelle as we hear her approaching. I turn just as I see Michelle swing a knife, and Maggie looks down, holding out her shirt as I see the cut Michelle made. I pull the gun from Carol's hand, not even hesitating to put one on Michelle's head. I put the gun back in Carol's hand, ordering, "Take the damn gun and fuckin' shoot her. End this."

Behind us, I hear Paula laughing, and I turn to face her. "Look at this," she says. "You're good. All of you." She looks to Carol. "Nervous little bird. You were her. But not now, right? Me, too."

"I told you to run," Carol repeats.

"If you're capable of all this, then what are you so afraid of?" Paula asks.

"I said, run," Carol pleads.

"And I said take the damn shot," I snap. "But you won't." I step between her and Paula, and the redhead looks at me. "Don't fuck with us."

With that, I Spartan kick her back, watching without emotion as she's impaled on a spike. She lets out a scream as the walker grabs her, tearing into her face and neck. I flinch back still as her blood spurts, but it still splatters on me. I turn back to Carol and Maggie, but before I can speak, a man's voice comes over the walkie. "Paula, we're approaching the perimeter," he says. "Are we a go?" Carol steps forward, taking the walkie from her belt. "Do you copy?"

Carol clears her throat, then raises the walkie, imitating Paula as she speaks. "Meet us on the kill floor." She looks over at me as she lowers the walkie. "Let's end this."

"Once and for all," I say, turning and starting towards the kill floor. I stop in one of their storage rooms, taking the gasoline they mentioned before, and then in the machine room, taking Molly's lighter and her cigarettes. Carol and Maggie meet me at the kill floor, where we spill the gasoline onto the floor and lock all the exits. We duck inside a room, closing the door most of the way. As we wait, Carol whispers, "I think I've killed eighteen people. I should've killed Donnie in the woods. I had a clear shot. I didn't miss."

"That's what you're scared of," I whisper as I realize it. "You're scared to kill again. And Maggie, you're scared of losin' what we've built. Me, I'm scared of dyin'. I say I'm ready to, that I wouldn't have a problem with endin' it now, but when it comes down to it, there's nothin' that scares me more. I've done some bad shit. I've killed thirty-three people, and that's about to go up, and yeah, I deserve to die. But that don't stop me from bein' scared of it. I've imagined my death so many times, and yet, I'm still terrified." I look up at Carol and Maggie. "Please, both of you, don't mention this to Daryl. I've scared him enough times."

"Don't think about it," Maggie advises. "We're almost done."

When I hear the footsteps approaching, I reach forward, closing the door so the gap is only about an inch wide. I watch as the Saviors file past, the one in the lead warning, "Careful, the floor's slick."

"You sure this is it?" a second guy questions as I put a cigarette between my teeth.

"She said kill floor," a third man replies, and I light the cigarette.

"You play with fire, assholes," I say as I step out, the Saviors turning to look at me. "You're gonna get burned."

I throw Molly's lighter, as well as the lit cigarette inside, before slamming the door shut. The door locks as Carol and Maggie join me, and I look through the window, watching as they burn alive. Their screams echo as I turn and walk away, Carol and Maggie on either side of me. We draw our knives as we come to the walkers in the hallway, killing them as we push through. As we make it to the door, it slides open, and Maggie raises her stolen gun. Everyone freezes in surprise at who's on the opposite side, and I look to the survivor in the lead, saying, "Aren't you a little short for a Stormtrooper?"

Everyone lowers their weapons, Glenn rushing forward to hug his wife. Rick, Gabriel, Abraham, and Sasha step around us, going to check the rest of the building, even though we've already cleared it. Daryl pulls me into a tight, one armed hug, using his free hand to take Carol's arm and pull her off the side with us. "I got here as fast as I could," Daryl whispers.

"They're all dead," I whisper. "I killed 'em."

Daryl says nothing, just holds me, then releases me after a moment, checking on Carol next. Just outside the doorway, I see the outline of the newest addition to our group, and I ask, "Paul?"

Jesus turns at the sound of my voice, abandoning his post outside to run in to meet me. I jump into his arms, wrapping mine around him as I rest my head against his shoulder, closing my eyes. "You alright?" he asks.

"I think I wanna live," I whisper in reply. "I wanna live, Paul. I'm too scared to die."


	13. Into the Last Good Fight I'll Ever Know

_**Chapter 12: Into the Last Good Fight I'll Ever Know**_

 _ **~Clary~**_

It was after dark by the time we made it home, and I find myself sitting in the bedroom with Carl, him silent beside me. Or maybe I'm the one that's silent, not paying attention to anything he's saying. I jerk back as there's a sudden pain in my neck, turning to see Carl pulling his hand away at my reaction. "Oh, so you can hear me," he says.

"Sorry," I apologize. "I'm a little out of it right now."

"What's up with the bandana? I was trying to get a good look at it..."

"Oh, um... Jesus tied it."

"Why?"

"Look, Carl, don't freak out. It's not a big deal or anything."

"Clary?"

"So, there was a Savior that I thought was dead. He wasn't, and, uh, he put a knife to my throat. That ended up cutting me."

"How deep?"

I shrug. "Don't know. Jesus didn't look too pleased, though."

"C'mon, we're going to Denise's," Carl says as he gets to his feet, pulling me with him.

"But it's the middle of the night," I protest. He doesn't let go of my arm, practically dragging me with him out of the house, down the street, and to the infirmary. He knocks on the door, and a moment later, Denise answers, rubbing her eyes. "What's going on?" she questions.

"I"m sorry about this," I say. "See, Carl, she was sleeping."

"You're hurt, Clary," he argues.

"And you're already here," Denise adds. "You might as well let me take a look."

I sigh, following her inside. I sit on one of the beds as she carefully unties the bandana from around my neck, Carl standing nervously behind her, arms crossed. "You're makin' me nervous," I say, looking up at him.

"Sorry," he apologizes. "It's just, it looks bad."

"It's not as bad as it could have been," Denise replies. "I mean, it could've been deeper. A fraction of an inch deeper, and, well, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now."

"That close, huh?" I question. "Need stitches?"

"I don't think so," Denise says, taking another look at it after she cleans it. "Almost, but you'll be fine without them. No matter what, this is gonna leave one hell of a scar."

"Clary, what the hell happened?" Carl demands. "And not just with that Savior."

I shake my head, looking down. "I... Carl, please."

"It's okay, I get it," Carl says, backing off. He wants to know, even though I don't want to talk. But he pretends to be satisfied with knowing that the cut isn't as bad as it could be.

"Carl, why don't you head back home?" Denise suggests after studying me for a moment. Carl turns to me, and I give him a nod, telling him it's alright. He leaves, and Denise pulls up a chair, sitting across from me.

"What're you doing?" I ask.

"I want you to know that if you need someone to talk to, I'm here," Denise tells me. "Are you alright?"

"Aside from nearly dying every day, I'm peachy."

"Clary, I'm serious."

"So am I."

"Liar."

"What the hell do you want me to say?" I snap, then sigh, looking down. "I probably shouldn't have said that. I'm not very good at this shit." I look up to Denise. "You were a psychiatrist before, right?" She nods. "So, like, doctor-patient confidentiality?" Another nod. "Good, 'cause I don't want Daryl to hear this. Or Carl."

"What's wrong?" Denise questions.

"I killed fourteen people last night. _Fourteen_. That's how old I was when the shit hit. That's over a third of all the people I've killed. And all of those people, they had lives. They had pasts, they had friends, family, a lover. A future. And I took it from 'em."

"You're rambling," Denise says.

"I know, I'm sorry," I mumble, looking down at my feet. "I don't know how to say it."

"Just tell me."

I look up at Denise. "I don't want to leave these people behind. But I'm ready to die. I can't take it anymore. I just want it to be over. But I'm... I'm so scared for when it finally ends. What am I supposed to do?"

"You come talk to me," she tells me, taking my hands. "Whenever you need to. You find me. I'll be there. The others, the people originally from your group, you know they're there, too, right? They're your family, and your family will always be there for you."

* * *

Somehow, we go back to our normal routine. Wake up each morning, some people earlier than others, do our day to day jobs. Carl still wakes me up each morning with the bouncing of his ball, and as much as I try to smile for him, to put up a facade where there's nothing wrong, he sees through it. He knows I don't want to talk about what happened in the compound, not after seeing my neck the night we got home.

The fourth day after the slaughter of the Saviors, I sit on the steps alone, then look up as Carl takes a seat beside me. "You alright?" he asks. "I woke up last night, you had a notebook. I thought you were gonna leave."

"No," I whisper. "I'm not leavin'. Not after I fought to keep this place safe."

Carl gets to his feet, then holds a hand down and pulls me to my feet. "C'mon," he says, leading me downstairs and out the front door. "Walk with me." I follow him in silence as we walk down our street. "Your neck, you said Heath had your back?"

"Yeah," I say.

"What about Glenn? And Jesus? You said he tied the bandanna."

"Heath was the first to fire. Glenn and Jesus wouldn't hesitate, had they had guns."

"Look, I know you don't want to, but are you ever going to talk about it?"

"What's there to say, Carl?" I question, looking over at him. "You really want to know 'bout how I murdered fourteen people in one goddamn day? Three of 'em, I burned 'em. _Alive._ And I just sat back and _watched._ I ain't no better than those Wolves. But you know what? I ain't sorry I did it. We're both killers, me and them. I put 'em down, and now all I got left to do is wait for someone to put me down. Jesus, he made me promise him that I'd keep fightin' for y'all."

"And you will," Carl says, facing me. "You have to. You have to stay alive, for us. We can't lose you. _I_ can't lose you. I've nearly lost you before, too many times. You _have_ to keep the promise you made Jesus." He wraps an arm around me, resting his head against mine. "You say to never betray your loyalty, but you can break promises 'cause they're hard to keep. And baby, I know it's hard for you to keep yours. I know it is. But the one you made Jesus, you have to keep it. For all of us."

"I'm tired, Carl. I'm almost too tired to fight anymore."

"No," he says, shaking his head. "You have to keep going. You don't have another choice. Well, you do, but you wouldn't choose that. You don't have it in you to take the coward's way out." Carl pauses, and we stand in silence for a while. "You miss him."

"Who?" I ask.

"Jesus. You miss him, don't you?"

"He's a good guy. I trust him. I mean, the others don't, but I say he's one of us. Something just clicked, him and me, like me and Glenn, ya know? Yeah, I kinda miss him."

Carl smirks slightly. "Hey, maybe he'll drop by sometime soon."

"God, I hope not."

"I thought you just said you missed him?"

"Yeah, but if he rolls up, it means shit's goin' down. We can't risk ourselves anymore, not after that. I don't think this is over." I look down our street, away from him, as I see Daryl kneeling next to his recently reaquired motorcycle. "I'll see you 'round, Grimes."

Carl watches me as I walk back towards the house, looking down at Daryl as I stop next to him. "Wanna go for a ride?" I ask. Daryl says nothing, staying silent. "What, you're not talking to me now? You ain't said shit to me since I rescued my own ass."

Daryl looks up at that. "I'm sorry."

I kneel next to him. "Why?"

"In Atlanta, before…" Daryl trails off, thinking of the family we lost there. "I promised myself that I'd get you off the path you were on. You're goin' cold, Clary. You're gonna end up worse than Shane. But you're getting to the point he was at, and I promised to stop you before you got there. And I failed at that."

"I know it sounds crazy, and it probably is, but… I forgive him. I forgive Shane for the shit he did. We fought, but he was a good fighter. And he tried to kill me, but at this point, who hasn't? It kept me on my toes, prepared me for the fight to come. He taught me how to stay alive in this world. And he's not the worst guy I've ever faced. I mean, he never tortured me like the Governor. He sure as hell didn't try to eat us like the people from Terminus. And… and he's not like the Claimers. Shane wasn't _that_ bad of a guy. He just went a little crazy, became obsessive. And that's not who I am."

Daryl falls silent, returning his bike. Carol steps up behind me, saying, "Didn't even notice. Got your bike back."

She takes a seat on the steps, and Daryl and I sit on opposite sides of her. "Got another one of those?" Daryl questions, nodding to the cigarette in her hand.

"I got you," I say, handing him one from my pack. I stick one between my teeth, lighting it, before passing my lighter over to Daryl. He gives a nod of thanks while Carol continues to look at the bike.

"Those people you met," Carol starts. "The ones in the burnt forest, they took it from you?" Daryl nods once. "You saved them, right?" Daryl says nothing. "Sorry. It's who you are. We're still stuck with that."

Daryl looks at her now. "No, we ain't. I should've killed them."

"If I was with you, I would've," I mutter, getting to my feet now. "I wouldn't hesitate. We _can't_ hesitate anymore."

As I walk away, I can hear the two talking behind me. "Hey," Daryl says. "The ones that took y'all, what'd they do to you? Clary won't say jack. I'm worried 'bout her."

"They didn't do anything," Carol answers. "But, you know, she did have a point. You haven't talked to her since then. Maybe if you would've asked, she would've told."

"You'd tell me if they did, right? The way she ran to Jesus… something's up."

"I don't know, Daryl. But she just trusts him. Maybe that's what it was."

"Yeah," Daryl sighs. "Maybe."

* * *

"Hey, Dixon!" Rosita calls from down the street, the fifth day after the slaughter of the Saviors.

Daryl and I turn, and I call, "Which one?"

She just waves us over to where she and Denise stand, the latter holding a map in her hand. Denise tells us, "After I got out of DC, I just drove. I remember seeing it right when I realized I had no idea where I was going. Edison's Apothecary and Boutique. It's just this little gift shop in a strip mall, but if it's really an apothecary, they had drugs."

"How do you know they still got 'em?" Daryl questions.

"It isn't that far. I just wanna check. And you, Clary, and Rosita aren't out scavenging or pulling shifts."

"We'll go," I tell her.

" _I_ wanted to check. I just wanted to help."

"How much time you spent out there?" Daryl says, nodding towards the walls.

"None," she admits.

"Forget it," Daryl tells her.

"I can ID the meds. I know how to use a machete now. I've seen roamers up close. I'm ready."

"I don't think you are," I say. "You ain't ready for the shit that's out there."

To Rosita, Daryl asks, "You good with this?"

"No," Rosita says with a shake of her head.

"I'll go alone, if I have to," Denise sighs.

"You'll die alone," Daryl corrects.

"I'm asking you to make sure I don't."

I shake my head when Daryl looks at me, and he turns his gaze to Rosita. She shakes her head, telling him, "I'm not babysitting her by myself."

Denise turns to Daryl and I with a smug look on her face, knowing that she's won. "Dammit," I sigh, shifting my crossbow on my shoulder. "I'll get my shield."

We take a truck, Rosita and Denise in the cab with Daryl behind the wheel, and I sit in the bed, watching Alexandria disappear in the distance behind us. As he drives, the truck jerks, gears grinding. "What the hell is he doing?" I mutter to myself. "He knows how to drive a stick."

The truck jerks, and my ass leaves the truck bed as he drives over a speed bump. I groan as I land, then hit the glass with my hand. "Dammit, Daryl!" I yell. "Take it easy!"

"Watch it," I hear Rosita scold from inside. "Clary's back there."

Not long after, Daryl slows to a stop, and I turn to see the road blocked by a fallen tree that the truck has no chance of getting around. The doors open, Daryl and Rosita climbing out after ordering Denise to stay in the truck. I get to my feet, climbing on top of the roof. "I'll keep watch from up here," I tell them, putting the butt of my crossbow on my shoulder. "I got your back."

Rosita takes out a walker trapped under the tree, then nods to me. I slide down from the roof, off the front, then open the door for Denise. "C'mon," I tell her. "It's clear."

"What'd you find?" Denise questions, gesturing towards the bag in Rosita's hand.

"Bottles of booze," Rosita answers, holding it up. "Any takers?"

"No, thanks," Denise replies.

"For later," Rosita tries. "I'm not bringing these to the pantry."

"I'm good," Denise repeats as I say, "Hey, Rose, save me some."

"The truck ain't gonna make it past this tree," Daryl reports, climbing back over the trunk. "C'mon, let's walk."

"Hold up," Denise says, and Daryl and I stop, looking back at her. "Looks like a straight shot if we follow the tracks."

"No," Daryl objects within seconds of seeing the look of panic on my face. I step closer to him, further away from the tracks. "No damn tracks. We'll take the road."

"That's twice as far," Rosita argues.

"Go whichever way you like," Daryl replies, taking my hand as we start away. "But we ain't takin' no tracks." He lowers his voice as we walk, knowing I'm trying to keep from freaking out. "It's alright, I'm here. It's okay. It's us, and they're dead."

"We should stick together," Denise says before joining Daryl and I on the other side of the tree. I turn, watching to see if Rosita joins us, but she starts off on the tracks. "Let's go."

We walk in silence, and around the time we're halfway there, Denise says, "Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot," I reply.

"That look on your face, when I said about taking the tracks… What was that about?"

"Ask me anythin' but that," I reply. "I don't like talkin' 'bout what happened. What _almost_ happened."

"Clary," Daryl says, grabbing my attention before my mind can drift to that night, the one before Terminus. "Don't think 'bout it. They're all dead. And that one, I killed him. I made sure of it."

"Something bad happened," Denise guesses. "Really bad. Rather, almost did."

"Drop it," Daryl snaps. "Last thing I need is her goin' back to that. Head in the game, Cheyenne."

"It's in," I reply. "I'm good. I have to be. No other choice."

When we come to another railroad crossing, we find Rosita sitting in the middle of the road, waiting for us. She gets to her feet when she sees us, remarking, "About time."

Daryl and I walk ahead in silence, while Rosita and Denise conversing behind us. We reach the apothecary not long after, Daryl knocking on the door to get the attention of any walkers inside. He leans his head against the door, listening, and after a minute of this, I ask, "Hear anything?"

"No," he replies. "Still, though, you, me, and Rosita are gonna do this. Denise, you stay back, got it?"

Denise nods once, and Daryl digs a crowbar out, prying open the door. We file in, weapons raised, Denise gagging at the smell of rot behind us. "We gonna find out what you had for breakfast?" Daryl questions.

"Oatmeal," Denise answers. "Just so you know."

I whistle, waiting for the sound to draw out any walkers. After a moment, nothing. Rosita says, "Hey."

I look over to where she shines her flashlight, highlighting the pharmacy window. "Macon all over again," I remark as Daryl uses his crowbar to try to jimmy open the window. "Try not to set off any alarms, alright?"

Daryl glances over his shoulder at me, then asks, "Macon didn't go all that well for ya, did it?"

"Only thing I got out of it was Glenn," I reply, raising my crossbow as he finally gets the window loose. He pushes the window open, revealing shelves full of pill bottles and no walkers. "Hey, look at that. Full shelves, no walkers. That's a win."

"Since when are you so glass-half-full?" Rosita asks.

"I'm gonna blame it on Glenn," I say with a shrug. "Little shit's always been optimistic." I jump up on the counter, sliding over it, before dropping down to the other side. "Alright, Denise, we're takin' it all, but what do we _need_?"

"We're not in _dire_ need of anything right now," Denise answers. "I wanted to come to ensure we're well stocked."

"You heard the good doctor," I say. "Take it all."

We stop when there's a thudding, looking in the direction it came from, behind a door. "It's just one," Rosita says, then turns and goes back to our scavenging.

"It sounds like it's stuck," Daryl adds, rejoining Rosita and I.

I kneel next to Rosita, taking the bottom shelves while she takes the top. "It's 'cause of Terminus, right?" she whispers. "Why you won't take the tracks?"

I get to my feet, putting my bag over my shoulder. "Yeah. Or, what happened the night before. That's what people are like now. Rapists, thieves, murderers. I guess nothin' actually changed. People were always like that. This world just brought it out."

"Like the Saviors," Rosita says. "Or, I mean, they were, anyway."

"Yeah. I just hope that fight's over."

"So, what happened? I mean, how'd you and Maggie get Gregory to agree?"

"No one else was in the room. I can't really talk about it."

"You know, even then it doesn't matter what you left with Gregory."

"'Cause we'll have the safety. We're in a good spot."

"You got us more than you gave."

"And I wanted what I got. I put my skin in the game, and I've stayed in the game. But I never got a win until I played in the game."

"This game being the war?"

"We're not a war. They're either defeated or they're not. And if they're not, well, shit."

"If they're not," Daryl says. "Then we're not at war yet. We just started somethin' bad if the're not all dead."

We turn with a jump as glass shatters, and I almost draw my gun before I realize Denise backed into a stand, knocking the glass off. "What the hell are you doing?" Rosita asks.

"Nothing," Denise replies, then turns and walks out of the shop. The three of us still inside look at each other, then go back to filling our bags with pills. Once we're finished, we head outside, where Denise sits on the ground. She doesn't look at us as we exit, and Rosita turns to look back at us, silently telling us to do something. I shake my head, telling her, "Ain't my circus, ain't my monkey."

"I thought Eugene said weird shit, then you came along," Rosita sighs, then looks to Daryl.

"Hey," Daryl says, and Denise turns, knowing that he's addressing her. "You did good findin' this place."

Denise gets to her feet with a nod of thanks, and I say, "Tried to tell you that you weren't ready. We all did."

"I know," Denise replies.

"C'mon," Rosita says, nodding towards the street. "Let's go."

We walk in silence, Daryl eventually breaking it by asking, "Was he older or younger?"

Denise looks over at him, asking, "What?"

"Your brother," Daryl rephrases. "Was he older or younger?"

"Older," she answers, grinning a bit now. "My parents came up with the Dennis-Denise thing on one of their benders. Hilarious, right?"

"Your parents cared enough to name you," I mutter. "Wonder what that feels like."

"And yet you go by your middle name," Daryl says.

"Cheyenne's a mouthful."

Daryl rolls his eyes, while Denise chuckles at us. "My brother, nothing scared him," she says. "He was brave. He was angry, too. It's kind of a dangerous combination."

"Yeah," Daryl agrees, looking over at me.

"That remind you of anyone, Darylina?" I ask.

He scoffs. "Yeah. Sounds like we had the same brother."

Denise looks over at me as Daryl walks ahead, and I tell her, "Merle, our brother. Had a god complex that nothin' could touch him. He was angry as hell at just 'bout everythin'. We clashed every time we saw each other. I think we were a little too alike. I'm a Gryffindor, through and through." Denise chuckles, and I crack a grin, but just for a moment. It fades as I say, "The last thing I ever said to him… 'No one's gonna mourn you.' And then he was killed, savin' our asses. I never thought I'd see anyone worse than the Governor, and then came the cannibals at Terminus. The Saviors. They just keep gettin' bigger and badder, and now I think I'm the one destined to die, just to save us." I look ahead as Daryl starts off on the tracks. "Daryl! What're you doin'?"

"This way's faster, ain't it?" he calls back, looking towards Rosita.

I hang back with Rosita and Denise as we walk, Daryl in the lead. "That's the thing 'bout him," I say, watching him as we walk. "He'll never directly say he was wrong. He'll say he's sorry, but he'll never say he was wrong. Not in the way you think he will. He finds a way to say you were right. He knows when he's wrong. He's the best man I'll ever know."

* * *

 ** _~Daryl~_**

As we walk past a group of cars, there's a bit of growling, but we ignore the walker, knowing that it's stuck. Denise calls up to us, "Hey! There's a cooler in there! Might be something we can use inside!"

Rosita, Clary, and I turn, Rosita telling her, "We got what we came for."

"It ain't worth the trouble," I add. "C'mon."

The three of us continue on, only stopping and turning when we hear growling and grunts. "Shit," Clary breathes before taking off, crossbow in hand.

Rosita and I follow behind her, arriving to find Denise rolling on top of a walker, straddling it to keep it pinned down. "No!" Denise barks, seeing us arrive. "Don't!"

She pulls her arm from the walker's grasp, driving her knife into its head. Denise gets to her feet, putting her knife away, and brushes the hair out of her face. "Lose your glasses there, Velma?" Clary asks.

She turns to face us, holds up a finger to say one moment, then vomits onto her glasses. "Aw, man," Denise sighs, straightening. "I threw up on my glasses."

She picks them up, sticking them in her pocket, before kneeling by the cooler. She grins, looking down into it, then says, "Hot damn!"

"What the hell was that?" I question. "You could've died right there, you know that?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Are you hearin' me?"

"Who gives a shit?" Denise snaps, getting to her feet. "You could've died killing those Saviors, all of you, but you didn't! You wanna live, you take chances! That's how it works. That's what I did."

"For a couple of damn sodas?"

"Nope," she replies, holding up a can of orange Crush as she walks past. "Just this one."

I look at Rosita and Clary, the latter having already taken off after Denise. Rosita and I follow as Clary questions, "Are you seriously that stupid?"

Denise stops, turning to face us. "Are you? I mean it. Are you? Do you have any clue what that was to me, what this whole thing is to me? See, I have training in this shit. I'm not making it up as I go along, like with the stitches and the surgery." Denise looks over to me. "I asked you to come with me because you're brave like my brother and sometimes you actually make me feel safe." Denise turns to Clary, who has taken a step closer to me at that statement. "You, you're tough as hell, and I wanna be like that. But the reason I wanted you here is 'cause you're ready to die, but you can't. Not yet. Those people back at Alexandria, the ones right here right now, they need you." Denise turns to look at Rosita. "And I wanted you here because you're alone. Probably for the first time in your life. And because you're stronger than you think you are, which gives me hope that maybe I can be, too." Denise sighs, shaking her head. "I could've gone with Tara. I could've told her I loved her, but I didn't because I was afraid. That's what's stupid. Not coming out here, not facing my shit. And it makes me sick that you guys aren't even trying because you're strong and you're smart and you're all really good people, and if you don't wake up—"

Denise is cut off by the familiar sound of a crossbow firing, and I turn to look at Clary, but her cry causes me to turn back to Denise. I find myself staring at the arrow in her head, the oh-so familiar crossbow arrow, as she falls forward. I catch her before she can hit the ground, but as I lower her to the train tracks, I know she's gone. On either side of me, Rosita and Clary raise their guns, and I follow their lead, staring as a group of about fifteen emerge from the woods, guns raised. Clary draws her shield, moving closer to me to cover me as well. A voice that I find myself recognizing shouts, "You drop 'em now!"

I lower my gun, watching as the blonde bastard that took my bike and crossbow emerges from the woods, forcing Eugene forward, and then to his knees, a look of terror and horror on the fake scientist's face. The blonde asshole from the burnt forest grins as he recognizes me, remarking, "Well, hell."

"Eugene," Clary says. "You hurt?"

The former science teacher shakes his head, and the blonde in charge notices me glaring at him, and asks, "You got something to say to me? You gonna clear the air? Step up on that high horse? No. You don't talk much."

He turns his head, nodding to three of his men, and I notice the side of his face is scarred. It wasn't like that the last time I saw him. His men step forward, patting us down before taking our bags and weapons. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the youngest one, probably in his early to mid-twenties, starting to get handsy as he pats my sister down. She smacks him in the face with her shield, causing guns to shift in her direction, but they turn away in a bit of understanding as she snaps, "You touch my ass again, I'll beat yours into the fuckin' ground!"

"Ooh, sorry about him," the blonde apologizes, then notices me staring at my crossbow. "I'm still getting the hang of her. Kicks like a bitch, but—"

"I should've done it," I say, cutting him off.

"Oh, what's that? Seriously, I didn't catch what you said."

"I should've killed you," I repeat, louder this time.

"Yeah, you probably should've. But, here we are. Kind of begs the question, right? Who brought this on who? I mean, I get that you'll just have to take my word for this, but… she wasn't even the one I was aiming for. Like I said, kicks like a bitch. It's nothing personal."

"I'll make it personal, you dickhead," Clary snaps.

"Look, this isn't how we like to start new business arrangements, but, well, you pricks kind of set the tone, didn't you?"

"You're with him," Clary says. "You're with Negan."

"What do you want?" Rosita demands.

"I'm sorry, darling, I didn't catch your name," the blonde apologizes. "I'm D, or Dwight. You can call me either."

"How 'bout Dick?" Clary questions.

"Ooh, you're a feisty one, aren't you? Real fiery!" Dwight says with a bit of a laugh, looking over at my sister. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Rosita, that's Clary," Rosita introduces. "What do you want?"

"Well, Rosita, it's not what I want. It's what you, Daryl, and Clary are going to do."

"And what might that be?" Clary demands.

"You're going to let us into your little complex. It looks like it's just beautiful in there. And then you're going to let us take whatever and whoever we want. Or, we blow Eugene's brains out. Then Rosita's. And then yours." Dwight nods towards me. "And his last. But I hope it doesn't come to that, really. Nobody else has to die. We just try and start with one. You know, maximum impact to get our point across. So, what's it gonna be? You tell me."

"You want to kill someone," Eugene says, nodding towards the barrels on their side of the tracks. "You start with our companion hiding over there behind the oil barrels. He's a first class a-hole and he deserves it so much more than us four."

I glance towards the oil barrels, remembering that Eugene was going out with Abraham today, but I don't see the ginger. Dwight draws his handgun, ordering to his men, "Go check it out."

A few of his people make their way towards the barrels, and that's when Eugene makes his move. He turns, biting Dwight's dick, and Abraham starts firing from the woods. Clary and I slit the throats of the two men still near us, then take our guns back. I run for cover with Rosita, while Clary fires on the Saviors to buy us time. She drops into a crouch, pulling her knees up to her chest so they don't shoot her legs. "Clary!" I shout over the gunfire. "Clary!"

"Cover me!" she barks. Rosita and I fire on Dwight's men as Clary runs for the car I ducked behind, sliding on her shield over the hood and dropping down beside me. Dwight's men and our group fire back and forth, the gunfire drawing out walkers. Dwight manages to shove Eugene off, and now without our man in the crosshairs, we fire towards Dwight. He hits the deck, yelling for his people to fall back. I stand to fire as they run, but Clary throws her shield up, bullets hitting it a second later. Clary pulls me down beside her, covering our heads with her shield. When the gunfire stops, I take off, grabbing my crossbow and a second gun, starting to run after them. Clary's urgent cry forces me to stop, though, and it takes me a second to process her words. " _Daryl, don't! Eugene's hit!"_

I turn, looking on as she presses her hands against his side, trying to stop the bleeding. Abraham and Rosita kneel beside her, and she barks, "We gotta get him back! Daryl, Abe, take an arm. Rose, you and me take a leg!"

We do as Clary says, carrying him down the tracks towards the car. As we pass Denise, I find myself staring at her, at yet another person I failed to save, to keep safe. And the worse part? She said that she felt safe when I was there. _I can't keep anyone safe._

* * *

 ** _~Clary~_**

Rosita sits at Eugene's bedside, Daryl stares out the window, and I sit on the table, watching Eugene in silence. I turn as the door opens, Abraham coming through. "Rick's coming," the ginger reports. "How is he?"

"Bullet just grazed him," Rosita tells him. "But it is a good thing we got him back when we did. Antibiotics we picked up could save him from an infection. Could save his life."

"That's what Denise did," I say. "She saved our lives."

I slide off the table at Eugene's cough, Rosita asking, "You here?"

"Present," he replies. Satisfied, Rosita turns and walks out, and Abraham fills in the spot beside him, while I take a seat on the bed, beside his feet. Eugene looks up at Abraham, telling him, "I was not trying to kill you. I was looking for a moment."

"You found it," Abraham tells him.

"Do you apologize for questioning my skills?"

"I apologize for questioning your skills. You know how to bite a dick, Eugene. And I mean that with the utmost of respect. Welcome to stage two."

"Don't need to welcome me. I've been here a while."

"And that you have, Eugene," I tell him. "You stepped up when Tara was hurt. You stepped up that night, with the herd. You're one of us, Eugene." I pat his leg, and he lifts his head to look down at me. I give him a small smile, which he returns with a grin of his own. "You're a survivor."


	14. Live and Die on This Day (Part 1)

_**Chapter 13: Live and Die on This Day (Part 1)**_

 _ **~Clary~**_

"Daryl," I say as I walk down the porch steps, watching him as he plays with Denise's keychain, silent. "Daryl." Even as I step closer to him, he ignores me. "Hey, Daryl." He still ignores me, looking at the keychain with the name of the fallen doctor's brother. "Goddammit, Daryl! Look at me!"

After a moment, he lifts his gaze, and it doesn't take me even a second to know what he's thinking, what he's planning. "What?" he questions.

"I can't stop you from goin' out there, I know that," I say. "But I won't let you go alone. Rosita's on gate duty. I'll talk to her, distract her while you open the gate. Then we go. Just… let me get my crossbow, 'kay? Wait for me."

Without waiting for an answer, I turn and walk back inside the house, ignoring Carl sitting on the bed as I cross the room to get my crossbow. "Clary?" Carl asks, watching me. "You're not going outside, are you?"

"Yeah, I am," I say, not bothering to look at him. "Sorry, but I don't got time for chit-chat."

I turn to exit, only to find him blocking the doorway. "I don't want you going out there anymore," he says.

"What'd you just say to me?" I question, starting forward as I put my crossbow on my back, choosing to leave my shield behind. "'Cause I know you didn't just say that I ain't goin' out."

"I don't want you going out. You heard me, Dixon. I don't want you out there. Please, Clary, respect that."

"And I recognize that you've made a decision, but given that it's a stupid-ass decision, I've elected to ignore it," I snap. "So, now if you'll move, I'll be on my way."

"Just listen to me for one goddamn time, Clary!" Carl shouts. "You were nearly killed the last two times you were out there! And not just once! That Savior took you, nearly slit your throat! Denise said that if that cut had been a _fraction of an inch_ deeper, you'd be dead!"

"Denise ain't here, is she? Is she, Carl!" I reply, raising my voice as well. "She's dead!"

"Like you if you go out there again!"

"She was killed 'cause we didn't kill those sonsabitches before! When we had the chance! But now Denise is dead, Eugene took a damn bullet, and Daryl's goin' out after 'em! Blood is being shed, Carl!"

"And you've donated more than your fair share to the cause!"

"I need to stop them! The Saviors are still out there! Dwight is still out there! _Negan's_ still out there!"

"My dad killed Negan," Carl says, eyebrows creasing in confusion.

"No," I reply, shaking my head. "No. The one they took, the one Rick killed, that wasn't Negan."

"Negan's still alive?"

"Negan's still out there, and that means the Saviors are still together. And they won't stop comin'. Not until we are _all dead_. Or _they_ are. And I need to go out there, and I need to do the dirty work. There's no other way."

"There's always another way!" I shake my head as I start past him, but he grabs my arm as I pass, forcing me to stop. "No, Clary—"

"Let me go," I say. "Just give in."

"You first." I pull my arm out of his grasp, stepping away. "I don't want to see you come back, the shit beaten out of you. Half dead. Having killed your brother. I don't want to do this again."

"Then don't. And don't wait 'round for me to come back. 'Cause I might not. These Saviors, they ain't gonna go down easy. Lives are gonna be lost. I need to go in, and I need to take every last one of them out. To make sure that we don't lose any of ours."

I turn to walk away, starting out the door.

"I saw it. Your notebook." I stop at that. I don't turn to face Carl, but look at him over my shoulder. "When I heard one of you were killed, I didn't know if it was you. So I looked at it, like you told me to if you didn't make it back. And I saw more than just that note, well, the two notes."

"What'd you see?" I question.

"Your kill count," Carl answers. "The fact that you still _feel_ it enough to keep track."

I scoff, turning to face him now. "You're wrong. I don't feel it, not anymore. But I do want to know the number. How many lives I've taken. Yeah, I keep track, but not to remind myself that I've killed _thirty-six goddamn people_."

Carl pauses, watching me, before softly saying, "That's exactly why you keep track. Every life you take, you feel it. It's weighing you down, Clary. You can't keep it bottled up inside anymore. You're gonna snap."

"Then let it be on them!" I cry. "They fuckin' deserve it! After all they've done. So I'm gonna go out there, I'm gonna take my revenge, and I'm gonna avenge the ones they've killed. Even if they weren't ours, 'cause these Saviors did wrong, and they need to be punished."

"So you kill them?" Carl questions. " _That's_ the punishment?"

"Yeah, it is. You know why?" He shakes his head. "'Cause nothin' else'll work. I have to make _sure_ they don't do it ever again. These Saviors, I have a shot, a chance to take them out once and for all. That's a shot I can't throw away! Every day for as long as I can remember, even once we were behind these walls, I haven't stopped. I haven't stopped thinkin' 'bout what I need to do _today_ to make it to tomorrow. Don't you get it, Carl? We're always in the face of casualty and sorrow! For the first time, I'm thinkin' past tomorrow! I'm thinkin' of our family, their future! I want to make it safe for them, so Judy can grow up in a world where she doesn't have to worry! I want that to be my legacy! I want to be the hero for once! The only way I can do that is by takin' out the Saviors! And you can't do a damn thing to stop me."

With that, I push around him, out the door. It's not until I'm downstairs that I realize I stepped past him on his right side, his blind side. _I just exploited his weakness,_ I think to myself, stopping and turning to look back upstairs. Only to find him leaning against the railing, watching me. "Well, aren't you gonna go?" he questions. "I mean, you said I can't do a damn thing to stop you. I guess being, you know, half blind, having been shot in the eye, doesn't affect you. So go. Don't come back. See if I care."

"I'm not comin' back, not this time. This isn't somethin' I get to come back from. This isn't somethin' I get to live through. The way you're right when you get feelings about places, like Terminus and Hilltop, I'm the same way with situations likes this. When I say things ain't over, they ain't over. I know when it's finally over, and we haven't even caught a glimpse of the real shitstorm rollin' our way. Bad things are gonna happen today, when we go out. When I go out. And then worse things, right after. I'm not comin' home, Carl. I'm never comin' home. So this is our goodbye. And this time, I think it's forever."

"Yeah, you have a problem staying in one place, don't you?" Carl questions.

"The hell's that supposed to mean?"

"Atlanta, Clary. You were gonna leave."

"Yeah, and there's times I wish I would've."

With that, I turn and walk out, the heels of my boots clacking through the eerily quiet household. I walk down the stairs, towards Daryl on his bike and mine parked beside it. "Hey, what's goin' on?" Daryl questions as I near. "You look pissed as all hell."

I don't answer, ignoring his question as I climb on the motorcycle I found about a month back. He leads the way to Alexandria's gate, and I put down my kickstand, keeping my bike running. I climb off, ignoring Rosita completely, and pulling the gate open while Daryl waits. "Where're you two going?" Rosita questions.

"Out," I answer.

"No shit," Abraham calls from his watchpoint by the gate. "Got specifics?"

"Out," I repeat, then turn as Daryl says, "I'm sorry, Cheyenne."

Without waiting for me, he takes off again, leaving me behind in Alexandria. I don't waste time shouting after him, knowing it wouldn't do any good, and take off for my bike. "Clary!" I hear Glenn shout as I rev my engine. "Clary, dammit!"

He skids to a halt in front of me, blocking my path. "Move it!" I snap, having to yell over my engine. "I'm going after him!"

"No, Clary, you're not thinking straight," he replies, shaking his head. "I know I can't stop you from going out there, but I won't let you go out alone. Just wait for me to get the van!"

I wait, and he runs off to the van. Michonne follows him, and we get ready to start off, only to stop barely a second later, due to Abraham running in front of us. "Whoa!" Abraham shouts. "Make room for my freckled ass!"

"No," Rosita argues, walking past him to climb in the van. "Cover my watch. You stay."

"We should keep numbers here," I shout back to her. I put my foot back on the peg, not waiting for them to decide who stays and who goes while my brother's out there. "I'm sorry, Glenn."

* * *

 ** _~Rick~_**

I sit in silence while Morgan drives, and eventually, he says, "You didn't have to come."

"We have to try, even if it's a long shot," I reply. "Even if it's dangerous. Tire tracks pointed east, we go east."

"The Saviors compound that you and the group, that you went to, that was west." I look over at him, wondering where he's going with this. "Seems like she went east."

I shake my head, glancing back out the window. "You don't even know Carol."

"Oh, I got to. A little."

"Why are you doing this?"

"What I believe, I'm not right." No, he's not. "There is no right." Okay, maybe that's true. "There's just the wrong that doesn't pull you down."

"It hasn't pulled me down," I say after a moment.

"I think it will. 'Cause I know you."

I sigh, staring out the window. He doesn't know me, not anymore. We're not the same people we were at the beginning of this. I'm a hardened killer, and he's a killer that refuses to kill.

About a mile later, we come to a stop after seeing a car parked in the middle of the road, men lying dead. We climb out, looking around. "That's her car," I say, seeing the spiked vehicle she stole on the other side of the truck. "You see her?"

"No," Morgan replies, and I start forward, seeing a man still alive on the ground. I kneel next to him, grabbing his shirt collar to pull him up. "Where is she?" I demand.

He gurgles, his own blood filling his throat, and I drop him back down. I pull out my knife, driving it into his head. He can't answer me, so he's no use to me. Morgan leads the way around the back of the truck, and I kneel, picking up a spear. It's like the ones the men at Hilltop have. "The Saviors were getting weapons from the Hilltop's blacksmith," I tell him. "These men were Saviors."

We continue forward, Morgan taking out the walker feeding on his dead companion. He checks the car, while I look around for weapons left behind. "There's blood here!" Morgan calls. "She could've been hit."

"I'm proud of her," I say, looking around.

"How's that?" Morgan inquires, walking back over to meet me.

"She took four of them down. That woman, she's a force of nature."

"She left because she can't anymore. That's what her letter said."

"She could because she had to. Sometimes you have to."

"There's more blood, opposite these men. It leads into the field. It's a trail, it could be Carol's. She could still be alive. She's not here."

"Most of their guns are gone," I say as I tuck the single gun I found into my jeans. "She might've taken them." I sigh as I walk over to meet him. "Or she could've died here. Even if she isn't here."

"The trail goes this way," Morgan says with a frown, gesturing towards it.

I look down at the blood, hardly able to see it with the grass. "Where's Clary when you need her?" I comment, starting off after him. "These Saviors, they were close to Alexandria. There's even more of them. We didn't end it."

"No," Morgan agrees. "Clary was right when she said it wasn't over. You just started something."

* * *

 ** _~Glenn~_**

I tear my gaze away from Rosita as Clary's motorcycle roars to life, only to watch as she drives away, not waiting for us. "I know where she's going!" Rosita shouts to us.

I gesture for her to get in, and I don't wait for her to close the door before taking off after Clary. The van's not nearly as fast as Clary or her bike, so we quickly fall behind, but I can hear her motorcycle in the distance. Rosita gives me directions, and I can hear the motorcycle's engine getting louder as we travel on the tracks. The sound dies and barely three minutes later, Rosita announces, "We're here."

I lead the way out of the van, Rosita staring down at a spot on the tracks. "This is it," she says, looking down at the blood. "This is where she died."

"Clary!" I hear Michonne shout, and I turn to find her dragging Clary out of the woods by her arm. Clary fights her way free, knocking Michonne to the ground before I run up, holding Clary's arms behind her back. "Stop it," I order in her ear. "Stop this shit. We are _not_ your enemy."

Michonne gets her to feet, questioning Clary, "What the hell kind of stunt was that? You left without us!"

"Y'all were takin' too damn long! Daryl's out here! I've gotta find him!"

"Then we should start here," I say, releasing her. "It's where Daryl would."

"He did," Clary says, starting down to a pile of branches. She pulls them aside, first revealing her bike, and then Daryl's. "He started here."

"Which way did Dwight run?" I question.

Clary shakes her head. "I didn't see. Denise was dead, Eugene shot. He was my focus, making sure he lived. I didn't have time to see where he ran."

"Rosita?" I question, and she ignores me. "Rosita!"

After a moment, she turns. "We should let him do this."

"But he doesn't know what he's doing," I argue. "We don't. Maybe him trying this makes you feel better about it right now. Maybe they keep knowing more about us than we know about them. Or maybe Daryl's gonna get himself killed. And that's what's gonna happen if we don't go after him. Which way did Dwight run?"

Rosita doesn't answer, prompting Clary to speak up. "Don't matter," she says. "I got tracks right here. I was just startin' to follow 'em when y'all showed."

Michonne nods her on, and Clary leads us through the forest, following the trail. She holds up a hand, signalling for us to stop, as we near a clearing. We look past her, searching for what it is she sees, and Rosita starts forward when she spots Daryl. He momentarily disappears from view, and we all stop when he fires a bolt in our direction, narrowly missing Rosita. She pulls it from the tree, pushing around Clary and barking to Daryl, "Watch the hell out, asshole!"

"Yeah, I did," he replies, taking his arrow back. "You shouldn't have come."

"You shouldn't have left," Michonne shoots back.

Daryl, who had started to walk away, turns back to us at that. "When I split off from Sasha and Abraham, he was out there in the woods, in that burned out forest with them girls. Put a gun to my head, tied me up! I even tried to help him."

Daryl starts away, and I bark after him, "You think it's your fault?"

He turns back to face me, standing toe-to-toe. "Yeah, I know it is. I'm gonna go do what I shoulda done before."

"What, for her?" I call after him. "She's gone, man. You're doing this for you."

"Man, I don't give a shit."

"Daryl!" I cry, taking his arm to make him stop. "We need to get back there and figure this out from home. Our home. We need you, and everyone back there needs us right now. It's―it's gonna go wrong out here."

"We'll square it," Michonne tries, stepping beside me. "I will. I promise you. Just come back."

"I can't," Daryl says, pulling his arm free.

"Daryl!" Clary shouts after him.

"I can't!" Daryl barks, glancing at his sister. "Why do you think I left you? I don't want you out here!"

Daryl ignores his sister's cry of protest, sharing a look with me before he turns and takes off into the woods. It takes me a second to realize what that look meant, but as soon as I do, I reach out, stopping Clary from following him.

 _Take care of her, Glenn._

The same thing he said to me, the same look he gave me, when the trailer fell.

 _Keep her safe._

Clary tries to pull her arm free, but I tighten my grip. "Clary, stop," I plead.

"I can't let him do it alone!" she cries. "I won't let him kill these bastards alone!"

"I'm going after him," Rosita announces, pushing past us and after Daryl before we can stop her.

"Glenn!" Clary barks, trying to free herself. "Let go of me!"

"No," I snap, and Clary freezes. "You're not thinking. You're gonna go out there, and you're gonna get yourself killed."

"That's exactly what Daryl's gonna do if you don't let me go!"

"No!" I repeat. "We're gonna get our shit together, you need to get your head out of your ass, and _then_ we'll go after him. We're going back, and you're coming with us."

Clary sends a glare my way, and if looks could kill, I'd be dead three times over. I don't flinch, and I sure as hell don't give in, letting her go after Daryl. "We're going home, Cheyenne. You're staying with us. And that's an order."

"I take orders from just one person," Clary snaps, pulling her arm free. "Me."

* * *

 ** _~Clary~_**

I'm not fucking happy about it at all, but Michonne threatened me until I followed them. Glenn justified it by saying the group needs the muscle, needs my fighting skills. More like they need someone that has a hatred of the Saviors and is willing to die in the process of taking them out.

"Those men, they could be back in Alexandria right now," Glenn says as we walk through the woods.

"If they are, they're dead," Michonne says.

"I hope not."

"Yeah," I agree, causing Michonne to look at me. "So I can off 'em myself."

"No," Glenn argues. "We need them alive. We need to find out more."

"Yeah, we do," Michonne agrees.

Glenn sighs, stopping before we cross a stream. "We just got stuck with each other. We were lucky. We figured it all out together. It felt like we did. After everything, we did." He shakes his head. "World's not what we thought it was. Hilltop, the Saviors, it's bigger."

In the distance a whistle rings out, and I push between them, aiming my crossbow in the direction it came from. To our right, someone echoes the whistle like a mockingbird. As I scan the forest, I realize we're completely surrounded by these men, outnumbered and outgunned. And as I look around, I realize that I know their faces. It's them. The Saviors. The same group of Saviors that killed Denise, shot Eugene. The same group led by the son of a bitch that kidnapped Daryl, put a gun to his head. "Come out, you son of a bitch!" I call. "I wanna see your face when I end your life!"

On my left, a laugh rings out. "There's the fire!"

"How's your dick, asshat? I really hope Eugene didn't hurt the only thing smaller than your IQ."

"Now, that's not too nice." I turn to face Dwight as he steps out from behind a tree, gun raised. He grins, saying, "Hi. How's life treatin' ya, sweetheart?"

"Clary, don't fire," Glenn whispers.

"Why not?" I snap.

"Because we'll never get out of here if you do. We have to negotiate."

"Negotiate?" I repeat, taking my eyes off of Dwight as I turn to face Glenn. "You can't be serious."

"Do something, Clary! You've got a way with words! Use it!"

"Okay, you are serious. Dwight! I have a proposal!"

"We don't make deals," the Savior says. "You know that."

"You're gonna make this one," I tell him, then turn to my best friend, my brother. "Glenn, you're the closest friend I've got. Give the signal." I turn back to Dwight across the clearing. "Ten paces each. One shot. I win, and you let us, Daryl, and Rosita go. You win, we go with you. All of us. A gun in the air's a sign of surrender."

"Clary, I said negotiate, not challenge!" Glenn cries.

"I accept your challenge," Dwight says. "In this clearing?"

"It's a good a place as any," I reply. "We start in the middle, back to back."

We both walk to the center of the clearing, drawing our guns. Dwight calls a Savior forward to serve as his second, and Glenn follows me. I hand my gun to Dwight's second, while Dwight hands his to mine. They unload our guns, leaving one bullet, before handing the nearly empty gun back to us. I hand my crossbow and jacket off to Michonne, who shakes her head, trying to talk me out of it. "Michonne," I say. "I don't back down. We're doin' this." Our crews back off, Glenn staying nearby to count us off. I turn my back on Dwight as he does the same to me, nearly brushing one another as we stand. "You ready?"

"Never been in a duel before," Dwight tells me. "Let's go."

I look to Glenn, nodding once. "Ten paces," he calls.

I count my steps, taking a glance to the sky one last time. _Seven, eight, nine…_

 _"Ten paces, fire!"_

Dwight and I turn at the same time, and as I spin, time seems to stop. Not stop, like it's the end, but it pauses. Everything freezes, the people around me, the sounds of the apocalypse. I'm given time, possibly my last few seconds, to think. To imagine the outcome of this.

 _I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory._

As my finger closes around the trigger, I hesitate. I'm ready and willing to fire, but I don't. I'm outgunned here. Even if I shoot Dwight, we're not getting out of this. These aren't men that keep their word. No matter what happens, they're still gonna open fire on us. We're here in the open, surrounded, with their eyes on me. If I kill Dwight, who may be the last face I ever see, then I'm pulling the trigger on the bullet that kills Glenn and Michonne. Firing the shot that kills Rosita. That kills Daryl. _Oh, Daryl, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry._

I've always run from my past. I always tried to fight against the things that happened, never accepted them for what they truly were. Since the moment I was born, I've been running. Trying to find my place. And I finally found it, here in this world, the way it is now.

In what may be my final moments, I catch a glimpse of the other side. Merle leads a soldiers's chorus on the other side. My Sam is on the other side, he's with Sebastian on the other side. Shane Walsh is watching from the other side. _Teach me how to stay alive!_ I've spent my entire life running from it all, from the other side. And now I'm running out of time. I'm running and my time's up. Wise up, Dixon. Keep your eyes up. We're dead if I fire, and I'm dead if I don't!

 _Make your decision, Dixon, because your time's up!_

I aim my pistol at the sky—

 _"Wait!"_

Glenn's scream echoes through the clearing, his last second hope to stop this. A gunshot still echoes through the forest, and the next thing I know, I'm on the ground, my shoulder on fire from the pain. I've felt it before, the pain of a bullet. It might be a graze, or it could be something more. I hear Glenn and Michonne cry my name, but barely. I glimpse the sky, the welkin fading in and out. Dwight promised he wouldn't shoot if I had my gun in the air, and I promised him the same. But here I am, lying on the ground, bleeding from a wound in my shoulder. Someone drops to their knees on my left as I close my eyes, but I don't process what they're saying. I do open them when I hear a familiar voice, one belonging to a dead man. "You did good, kid," he says, and I open my eyes at his voice. "He wasn't going to let you go. But you tried. You'll be alright. You did good."

He looks different, not the way he looked the night he died. He looks more at peace, like he did in the early days, when we first met. He didn't look insane, the way he did after he started losing it. As Glenn comes into focus over me, he disappears, his words still ringing in my ears. _You tried. You'll be alright._

"Clary!" Glenn cries. "Can you hear me!"

I look at him, then back towards where the ghost of a friend turned enemy was. I whisper, _"Shane."_

* * *

 ** _~Rick~_**

My heart skips a beat when I see the walker in the field ahead of Morgan and I, thinking that it's Carol. Thinking that one of my family has been turned, with no one around to put them down. The walker turns as we get closer, and I breathe a sigh of relief when I see the walker's face. "It's not her," I say.

Morgan uses his bo staff, bludgeoning the walker, and she falls. We kneel beside her, seeing that whoever this was before, she died because her throat was slit. "She couldn't have been dead more than a day," Morgan guesses.

I look up at creaking from the barn at the crest of the hill, and start towards it, gun raised in preparation for anything. I step over a dead walker, then watch as a man sticks a spear in the head of a second. I raise my gun in case he's an unfriendly, calling, "Hey!"

"Whoa!" he cries, seeing me, and ducks behind the side of the barn, then inside, where I can't fire. "It's okay! I'm not trouble! I don't want any trouble!"

"Come out!" I call, moving forward with Morgan flanking me. "Drop your weapons!"

"I can't do that," the man, who I noticed had some kind of armor, calls. "The wasted are too close. I'm just looking for my horse. Have you seen him?"

"No," Morgan calls. "We're looking for our friend. Have you seen her?"

The armored man doesn't answer, so I repeat, "Have you seen her?"

"They're coming!" he calls as walkers appear. "Just go! Just go!"

Once the group of about half a dozen are past the door, heading towards us, he makes a break for it. I fire after him, but Morgan pushes me, making me miss the armored man, but I do manage to hit a walker, taking it out. I holster my gun, drawing my knife as Morgan and I move forward to take out the remaining walkers. I turn as I hear Morgan cry out, only to see one on his back. I run to him, driving my knife into the walker's head and pulling it off of him. "You bit?" I question.

"I'm good," he replies, giving me a nod of thanks. He starts after me as I walk forward, going to take the spear. "Rick. We didn't know who he was."

I pull the spear out of the walker's head, studying it for a moment before announcing, "It's one of the Hilltop's. Like the one on the road. Maybe he's one of them. Maybe he's looking for Carol, too."

"Maybe the man is just looking for a horse," Morgan argues. "Maybe he is from Hilltop. Maybe he's from somewhere else."

I shake my head, looking over at him. "I don't take chances." I throw the spear down. "Not anymore."

Morgan starts forward, in the direction the man ran, then pauses, turning to look back at me. "Those people… the Wolves… after they attacked, I found one of them. He had attacked me on the road before, when I was trying to find you. And I stopped him. But I let him live. And then he was there in Alexandria after the attack, hiding in one of the brownstones, so I stopped him again. I knocked him out and I could've killed him. But all life is precious." I sigh, wondering how long it'll be before Morgan realizes that maybe not _all_ life is precious. That we have to kill in order to survive. "I put him in the cell of the brownstone basement. 'Cause I knew he could change. We all can change."

 _We're not too far gone._

My own words ring in my ears as he says that, and I realize that once, I was naive like him. I once believed that people could change, that we didn't have to kill anyone. And then I watched the man I said that to kill one of my friends. Kill some of my people. And then he was killed, the conflict ended, by the person I once kicked out. But if she did that now, if she killed one of ours now, I wouldn't kick her out again. I couldn't. She keeps us alive, even if it was in a way that I didn't approve, she kept us alive, at least for one more day. In killing Karen, in killing David, they saved us, and I repaid them by telling them to leave and not come back. I severed the trust Clary had in me, but she still followed me. While Carol forgave and tried to forget, Clary resented and remembered.

 _You failed to see the devil beside you, Rick._

Am I failing to see him again now? The stupid things that Morgan does, is it for him, or are they for the good of our people? Is it because of his stupid-ass, no one has to die, beliefs, or is he trying to do things for the good of our people? But the things that he's done, no matter what side it was for, he endangered us.

"You had one of them alive, in the community?" I question.

"Oh, yeah," he says. "And when the walls came down and the walkers broke in, Carol found out, we fought and that man escaped, and Denise… she had come to the cell to try and help him and he took her hostage. And then she and that Wolf, they got swarmed, and that man, that killer, he saved her life. And then Denise was there to save Carl. It's all a circle. Everything gets a return. But the fact is the fact. I did what I did. I let him live." I don't look at him as he steps closer, processing everything he said. "You go home, Rick." I lift my eyes up, meeting his. "You take the car. You're needed back there. You shouldn't be out here taking any more chances."

"I'm not leaving," I argue. "Carol's still out here."

"And I will find her," Morgan promises. "Somehow. You go."

He turns to leave, and I say, "You're coming back."

He nods. "Yeah. But if I don't, don't come looking."

"Hey," I say, and he stops. I hold up the gun I picked up from the road. "Take it."

"No, I—"

"Take it," I repeat. He takes the gun, and turns to leave. "Morgan." He turns back to look at me. "Michonne did steal that protein bar."

He grins. "Oh, I know."

We go our separate ways, Morgan continuing the search, while I start back for Alexandria. Back to the people that need me there.

* * *

 _ **~Enid~**_

Maggie smiles softly as she looks at her newly cut hair in the mirror, brushing her short bangs out of her face. I tell her, "I like it. But why?"

"I have to keep going," she answers. "And I don't want anything getting in my way."

She looks at it from the side, sighing. "Did I cut it too short?" I question, worrying she doesn't like it. "I only used to cut my dad's."

Maggie bows her head, taking a deep breath. "No, it's not that."

"Maggie?" I question, noticing how she looks uncomfortable. She suddenly drops the mirror to the table, crying out in pain. "Maggie!"

Something's horribly wrong, and when I notice how she's clutching her stomach, I know it has something to do with the baby.

* * *

 _ **~Clary~**_

Glenn glances over at me as I bump his shoulder, but I hardly notice him or the pain from it as I shake my head at Daryl in the woods. He moves forward, eyes trained on Glenn, on my right, Michonne, who's on my left, and I. I shake my head, a bit more frantically, and Daryl raises a finger to his lips, silently telling us to quiet down. "Daryl!" I try to shout through the gag in my mouth. "Daryl, don't!"

Behind Daryl, Dwight appears, gun raised, and another Savior aims his rifle at Rosita, who is on Daryl's other side. "Hi, Daryl," Dwight says.

The gunshot echoes, but so does the terrified scream that rips past the gag in my mouth as Daryl's body hits the ground.

"You'll be alright."


	15. Live and Die on This Day (Part 2)

_**Chapter 14: Live and Die on This Day (Part 2)**_

It's dark, so dark they can't see their hands in front of their face. One of them closes their eyes, using their other senses to tell them where they are, where the others are. After they shot Daryl, there were all in a daze, not paying attention to much of anything. This survivor, they didn't care abut anything but Daryl. They thought that son of a bitch had killed him, had killed their family, their brother.

The survivors relax only momentarily when they hear the breathing of the others, Daryl's ragged from the pain, but he's still breathing. One chuckles, suddenly reminded of the train car at Terminus. "They're gonna feel pretty stupid when they find out."

"Stop," Daryl rasps, remembering Rick's words. "Stop. You're gonna get killed if you try anything."

"That doesn't mean they're not fucking with the wrong people."

* * *

 ** _~Rick~_**

"Any change?" Sasha calls as I carry fuel to the RV.

"She's getting worse," I regretfully tell them.

"Good call on the transport," Abraham compliments, stopping by the door with Sasha at his side.

"I figured she'd be more comfortable."

"Also means you got room for more. They're out there, so I'm gonna be there with you." He glances over at Sasha. "We are."

"Package deal," she adds, leading Abraham into the RV.

"Uh, what she said," Eugene tells me as I notice him behind the duo.

"Look, it's a long trip," I say. "And you're just getting over—"

"It's a superficial graze," he argues. "Proteins are binding, plus we need to discuss ammunition production and manufacture, so let's roll."

"I already tried," Abraham tells me, climbing out of the RV to grab a bag. "Give him an inch, he takes it a mile."

"I'm only asking for twenty-three, give or take, depending on the route. I know I could be of some help. Now's the time and here's the place. Don't shine me. I'll be your anchorman. Yes, I damn will."

With that, he climbs into the RV, not giving me time to argue.

* * *

 ** _~Carl~_**

"Glenn's still not back," Enid tries as she follows me into the armory. "I need to be there for Maggie."

"I said no, Enid!" I reply, putting whatever guns and ammo we need into a bag.

"Carl."

"Look, you were wrong before. This place isn't too big to protect. And you need to stay back and help protect it."

"This place is ready. Most of us have been trained, you know that. If you were worried about an attack, you wouldn't be leaving."

"You know how far the Hilltop is? You know what could happen? Those Saviors are out there. You know what they did to Denise. What they tried to do with Maggie and Carol, to Clary, to Daryl, to Rosita, Eugene. That's not happening to you, alright? I'm not gonna let it."

Enid quiets down, watching me as I load my gun, then says, "You want to run into them right? You hope they show up. Jesus, Carl, this is about getting Maggie to a doctor! Not about your damn grudge match against them! Screw you, I'm going."

"Enid, stop!" I bark, moving to block her. "Just wait."

"Get out of my way. Carl!"

I don't budge, but I do think of a way to keep her from coming. "Just grab some pistols from the closet," I tell her. "But hurry. We've gotta go now."

Enid runs for the closet, and as soon as she's in, I slam the door shut, using a chair to keep it closed. "Carl!" Enid shouts from inside. "Dammit! Carl! Carl! What happens if you don't come back? How am I supposed to live with that? What the hell am I supposed to do?"

"Just survive somehow," I say, remembering the words she wrote on the paper she slid under my door, her way of saying goodbye after the Wolves. I walk out, trying to ignore the banging on the door as she tries to get out. I head towards the RV, hearing Aaron and my father before I reach them. "We're ready to protect this place, and the Saviors know it," Aaron says. "That's why they grabbed Eugene."

"It's not up for discussion," my dad tells him.

"Then you're just gonna have to punch me in the face and tie me up again. 'Cause that's what it's gonna take to stop me."

My dad sighs, giving in, and nods Aaron on. He climbs into the RV, and I follow him in. I take a seat at the table, listening as Father Gabriel tells Rick, "We have twenty-four hour shifts set up on each of the watchtowers, each one of them fully supplied and ready. In the case that we're incurred upon, we have drivers assigned, evacuation and distraction, and the rendezvous we discussed. In the event of any emergency, my first priority is Judith. I will not fail you. Are you comfortable leaving me in charge of Alexandria's defense?"

My dad chuckles. "Yes."

"Hey, Rick," Spencer says, stopping my father before he can climb in the RV. "If the Saviors do show up… I don't know, I'm thinking, if it's not too late, should we try and make some kind of deal?"

"Tell them to wait for me," my dad says. "I got a deal for 'em." He climbs in the RV, closing the door behind him. "Alright, let's go."

* * *

"What the bitch?" Abraham exclaims from the driver's seat, and we all stand as he slows to a stop, looking to see what's in front.

"What is it?" my dad asks, pushing through us.

"Enemy close," Abraham answers. "Are we doing this?"

"No. We're getting out to talk."

We grab our weapons, but we don't raise them as we follow my dad out of the RV. I stand next to Aaron as my dad steps forward, his hands raised to show he isn't looking for a fight. One of the men, probably a Savior, gestures down to a man lying on the ground below him. "He's someone who was with a whole lot of someones who didn't listen," the Savior calls.

"We can make a deal," Rick calls. "Right here, right now."

"That's right. We can. Give us all your stuff."

"Not this shit again," Abraham huffs under his breath.

"We'll probably have to kill one of you. That's just the way it is, but then we can start moving forward onto business." I tighten my grip on my gun, but I still don't raise it, watching for the go-ahead from Dad. "All you have to do is listen."

"Yeah," he sighs, moving his hands to the machine gun he carries. "That deal's not gonna work for us. Fact is, I was about to ask for all of your stuff. Only I'm thinkin' I don't have to kill any of you. Any _more_ of you, that is."

The Savior standing next to the head of this group makes a show of shaking up a spray paint can, then painting an X onto the someone that wouldn't listen. The lead Savior sighs, saying, "Sorry, my deal is the only deal. We don't negotiate."

Rick nods once, then waves his hand, telling us to go. "Me and my people are leaving."

"Okay, friend. Plenty of ways to get to where you're going."

Rick follows us to RV, then pauses at the door, turning back to the Saviors. He calls, "You want to make today your last day on earth?"

"No, but that is a good thing to bring up. Think about it. What if it's the last day on earth for you? For someone you love? What if that's true? Maybe you should be extra nice to those people in that RV, 'cause you never know." The Savior snaps his fingers. "Just like that. Be kind to each other. Like you said, like it was your last day on earth."

"You do the same," my dad tells them, then climbs in, closing the door behind him.

 _For someone you love._

I don't expect the words to hit me as hard as they do, but when they hit, she's the only thing I can think about. _The fight_ is the only thing I can think about. How I told Clary not to come back, and now here we are. I'm out here, facing the Saviors, and Clary's out here, too, but I don't know where she is. I don't even know if she's dead or alive. If she's free, if she's trapped by walkers, if she's been captured by the Saviors. I don't know where the hell she is, I don't know if she's alive, and that scares the hell out of me. What if today's her last day on earth, like she thought it would be?

* * *

 ** _~Clary~_**

My heart pounds as the door opens, light streaming in. We all blink, our eyes trying to adjust to the brightness. I hear Dwight ask, "Alright, now, which one of you assholes is the leader?"

There's not really a leader among the five of us, but I'm the one that has a way with words, so I step forward. Dwight grabs my arm, roughly pulling me out. I fight back the urge to let out a cry, as he grabbed me in the same arm his bullet grazed, causing a cry of protest from Glenn. I look back towards him, shaking my head, hoping that he saw it before they closed the doors again. After his echoing of Rick's words in the train car, I'm not sure what he's ready or willing to do. And it might be something really stupid that gets us all killed.

My hands are tied in front of me, and I'm marched around the trucks, to the bed of one. I pull my arm free of Dwight's grip, then look up into the truck bed as I hear a man say, "Take it easy. You don't hurt women. Not unless you have to."

 _Dude's gonna be pissed when he finds out he shot me._

I look up as the man that spoke emerges, hopping down onto the asphalt with us. He looks down at me, smirking slightly, then sees my tied hands. He sighs, saying, "Dammit, Dwight. You don't have to be so rough all the damn time. Get out." Dwight turns and leaves, and the man pulls out a knife. I flinch back, trying to pull away. "If you keep moving, I'm gonna cut you and not the rope." I stop, and he slices the rope. "What's your name?"

"Clary," I answer, rubbing my wrists. Whoever the hell it was that tied it, he tied it tight. "Clary Dixon."

"Clary," he repeats. "Hi, I'm Negan."

I slowly look up at him, trying not to show my fear, as he hops up on the truck bed, sitting on the tailgate. He swings his legs, grinning as he looks down at me, eyes flicking over me. "You know," he says. "When I give my men an order, then _always_ follow it. No matter what. I saved them, so they fucking owe it to me. Even if they didn't owe me, they would still do everything I say. I am their leader, after all. They do what I tell them, not the other way around. They follow _my_ orders, and they know not to defy me."

"How long have your men been following us?" I question.

Negan chuckles. "You're good. You catch on quick. We shouldn't have too much of a problem if the rest of your people are like that."

"How long," I repeat, "have your men been following us?"

"Long enough to know you take orders from your own fucking men."

"I saw that he had a point. There's nothing wrong with a leader listening to their people. Communication."

"The point being the edge of your friend's sword? We heard it, too, you know. Your own people threatened you, and the only thing you did was go right along with it. That's fucking fucked up."

"What the hell do you suggest I do?" I snap, then pale, flinching back, as he raises a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire.

"Why, you punish them, of course," Negan says with a grin. "The severity of which depends upon the offense and the general attitude of the day." He notices how my eyes don't leave the bat, and he chuckles. "Like her? I call her Lucille. When you start swinging her, she's got something in her that doesn't want to fucking stop. Gets real messy, but it is _awesome._ You're lucky. You're gonna get to see what she can do real soon."

"God, I hope not," I say. "But, hey, if you are, may I recommend Dwight? I mean, he seems like the type of guy that has trouble following orders. Make an example of him for the, er, rebels in your forces. Show 'em what happens when they don't listen."

"Look at you. How you don't hesitate to sacrifice someone to save one of yours. But you don't want to kill them yourself. No, you can't."

"You underestimate me, and it'll be the last thing you ever do."

Negan chuckles. "Your people are gonna die. You know that, right? They're gonna die, and so are you."

"I won't let them die. Not on my watch."

"Self-sacrifice for the others. That's cute. But it won't work. There's nothing you can do to stop it."

"Then at least I won't die a heartless bastard like you."

"You don't know how close to heartless you really are."

"I'm not heartless," I argue. "I still have my humanity. That's why I killed your men. To protect my blood, 'cause I've still got heart left."

"No, there's one thing that you just can't see," Negan says with a shake of his head. "You're one bad day away from being me."

* * *

 _ **~Carl~**_

I lean against the wall at Maggie's feet, looking through the blinds as I scan our surroundings for walkers or Saviors. I look back at Aaron, asking, "Why didn't you help guard the place?"

"I owe her," Aaron says, looking down at Maggie, who fitfully sleeps, before over at me. "What about you? Why are you here?"

"I owe them," I say, then take a seat by Maggie's feet. "And… and Clary's out here. I... Clary and I, we had a fight. Our first."

"It'll be okay, you know," Aaron tells me. "Every couple fights now and then. Eric and I fight sometimes, but we make it right."

"You don't get it," I mutter, looking down at my feet.

"What don't I get?"

"You know where Eric is," I say, looking up at him. "You know he's safe. Clary? I don't know where she is. And the worst part? I said something I wish I could take back. I told her not to come back, Aaron. Now I'm worried, 'cause of the Saviors out there. And she's got a deathwish already, adding in a fight to the mix… I'm worried she won't make it back."

"She'll be back," Aaron says. "She has to be. We need her. She knows that. She knows we can't go on without her there." He looks up at me. "You'll get to make it right. That's all you can hope for. That's all we can hope for. Clary's a fighter, a leader. We need someone like her with us."

From the front of the RV, I hear Eugene says, "Logrun Road's a straight shot."

"We want visibility," Sasha tells him.

"There, you got it on Shelton. Golf course, country clubs, sloping terrain. No bum rush from the boogeyman. We'd see them from a good piece. It is a longer trip by a third, but we'd get the scenic safety of clear-cut dingles and glens."

"You're being serious, right?"

"As coronary thrombosis."

"You got a route?" Dad asks. "Alright, let's go."

* * *

 _ **~Rick~**_

"Bitch nuts!" Abraham exclaims as he pulls the RV to a stop yet again. I push through the others, leaning down to look out the windshield. To our right, more Saviors block the road. The left's clear, and we know we can't go back.

"Are we making our stand?" Sasha inquires.

"Yeah," Carl says. "We should end it."

"No," I argue. "Not now. They've been waiting. They're ready. With one of us behind the wheel, that's five on… sixteen, looks like. We're gonna play it our way, how we want it." I glance back at Carl. "Right?"

"Right," he says. "But how do we know they're not corralling us? Like Terminus?"

I pause. "We don't. We just need to find another way around. Abe, go slow."

He slowly backs up a bit, then pulls the RV around, taking a left. We watch out the side windows, guns raised, as one of the Saviors fires three series of shots into trees. We continue on, and after a while, I move back up between Sasha and Abraham. "How are we on gas?" I question.

"Half a tank," Abraham replies. "I pulled some more cans before we left."

"Those weren't the same men who blocked the road the first time," Sasha says.

"Same outfit, different soldiers. They got numbers."

I nod, showing I understand. "We keep driving. We get her there."

"We will," Sasha confirms.

Abraham adds, "If we have to shove each and every one of them up their own asses."

He curses under his breath as he pulls to a stop yet again, this time the road's blocked by a string of walkers, chained together. "We can't go through it," I say. "Can't risk the RV. You stay behind the wheel, just in case. We'll clear it."

We file out of the RV, guns raised, and Abraham stays inside, behind the wheel. As we make our way forward, to the walkers, Eugene says, "Putting together a red rover like that takes people. A lot of them."

"C'mon," I say. "Let's do this."

"Dad," Carl says, stopping me as I step up to face a walker with a familiar dread in its hair.

"That's Michonne's," Aaron adds.

"That's Daryl's," Sasha adds, gesturing to a walker with arrows with green and white fletching.

"The bandanna," Carl says. "The black one. That's Clary's. Jesus tied it around her neck when she was cut."

Carl follows me forward, quickly taking the loosely tied bandanna from a walker's wrist. I reach up to pull the dreads out, then move to kill the walker with my hatchet, but gunfire rings out, and we all duck down. "Get back to the RV!" I bark. "Go!"

They don't listen, instead firing on the Saviors. They cover me as I chop the walker's arm off, making a path to allow us through. As soon as I have the wall of walkers broken, I turn and run, following the others back into the RV. The Saviors stop firing, allowing us to pass. Carl sits at the table with Eugene and Sasha, staring down at the bandanna in his hands. "They have her," he says. "They have them. The corralling, it was getting us to those walkers. All to show us that they have them."

No one tries to argue, knowing that Carl's right. "What's that sound?" Sasha inquires, referring to the squealing from the RV.

"Undercarriage could've caught a bullet," Eugene says. "Or could be transmission. Could be nothing."

"They were firing at our feet," I say. "They blocked the road, but they weren't trying to stop us. They want us in this direction."

"Barton Road takes us north, but they gotta know we wanna go north," Sasha tells us.

"Meadows," Eugene proposes. "Takes us east a piece but we can get back on track at Mayhew."

"We're down to a third of a tank. We could top off at the next stop, but no refills after that."

I nod my approval, and Aaron pushes past them. "Rick, she's burning up," he says.

"Rick!" Abraham calls, and I move up as he brings the RV to a stop. This time, more Saviors block the road, more than ever before. Nearly three dozen, easy. And that's just the ones we can see.

"Go back," I order.

"Where? There's nowhere left to run."

* * *

 ** _~Morgan~_**

I only found her again because of the gunshot. The first time I found her, it was an accident. I found the man's horse, and I found Carol outside a library, a stab wound in her side. I did what I could, but she needs stitches. Then, when I went to take care of a walker making a lot of noise, she left. I continued on, trying to find her. Then, I heard a gunshot, and, wondering if it was her, I took off towards it. As I near the origin of the gunshot, I hear another one, followed by a faint scream. I'm close, but still not there. As I near a building, a woman's voice that I recognize as Carol's calls, "What, are you done? Unless you kill me now, I'm not gonna die! You decide! The world doesn't decide! You do! You don't get to walk away and get what you want!"

I jump down from my horse as a man, one that was walking away, turns around, raising his gun on Carol, who lies on the ground. "Stop," I command, raising the gun Rick gave me. "Drop it. You can survive this. You can. Drop it. Please."

"No," the man replies, finger moving to the trigger. I fire first, firing to protect my people. I squeeze the trigger, and I don't stop until he hits the ground. I drop down beside Carol, seeing the wound in her leg first, and then her arm. As I apply pressure to her arm, she begs, "Will you please just let me go?"

"Hey, it's not your time," I tell her. "You are gonna come back from this."

I turn as I hear a second horse approaching, only to find the man who lost his horse, a second man on a second horse behind him. He raises a hand to show he means no harm, asking, "What happened here?"

"I found your horse," I tell him. "Found my friend, too. She needs help."

The men look at each other, and the one without the horse says, "Then, let's get you some help."

He holds out a hand, which I shake, sealing the deal. These men may be our saviors, but they're not part of the Saviors.

* * *

 ** _~Rick~_**

Yet again, we have to stop. This time because of logs blocking the road, and as we get out, we notice tire tracks on the dirt road. "These tracks," Eugene says. "They would indicate that they not only have people, but some big-ass toys and capabilities."

"What it indicates is that we are neck-deep up shit creek with our mouths wide open," Abraham corrects.

We turn as there's a scream and chains rattling, only to find a man being dropped off the overpass. Aaron aims his gun as the man, whom I recognize as the same man that wouldn't listen to the Saviors, gags, clawing at the chain around his neck. "Don't," Abraham orders.

"I can try and break the chain," Aaron says, not lowering his gun.

"It won't work."

"I can try."

"It won't work," I repeat. "And we need the bullets."

So we stand by, unable to help, as he chokes to death. Behind us, the logs suddenly catch fire, and the same Savior from the first group calls, "You're treating your people good, right? Like it was your last day on earth? Or maybe one of theirs? You better go. It's gonna get hot. You go get where you're going."

"Go," I command, and we rush back to the RV. As soon as Abraham's behind the wheel, he backs up, away from the burning logs. On a side road in the woods, he finally pulls to a stop, and we gather around the table. "What's the play?" Abraham questions.

"She needs a doctor," I say as I join them after checking on Maggie.

"There are two more routes north from here," Sasha tells us.

"They're probably waiting for us right now," Aaron chimes in.

"So they're ahead of us, probably behind us," Eugene says. "But they're not waiting on us, per se. They're waiting on this rust bucket. And they don't know the moment-to-moment occupancy of said rust bucket. And the sun sets soon."

* * *

Once the sun is set, we move out, putting the rest of the gas into the RV and getting Maggie ready to move. I meet Eugene by the door, telling him, "That's the last of it. You see a car, try to siphon some gas, but other than that, keep moving."

Eugene nods. "I'll have them thinking we're playing their game. All phases of the turn, level after level, move after move, I'll keep them spun. I assure you, I will. I got something for you." He reaches in his pocket, pulling out a piece of paper. "It's a recipe, and it ain't gazpacho. _How to Build Bullets 101._ " He hands me the paper, telling me, "Abraham can show you where, just in case."

I look up at him. "Thank you for this. For all of it. We're lucky you're here."

"I won't argue with that," Eugene says, causing me to chuckle. I shake his hand, then walk away to allow Abraham speak with his friend.

"You go steady on the pedal," Abraham instructs him. "You don't make that thing gulp."

"How come you never let me drive the truck?" Eugene questions.

"Quite honestly, I didn't think you could do it. I was wrong. You're a survivor. You always were. We just didn't know it. Me and you both."

Abraham holds up a hand for him to shake, but Eugene bypasses it and goes for the hug. I step inside the RV, helping Aaron get Maggie out on the cot we rigged up for us to carry her on. Eugene steps over once we're out of the RV, and Maggie looks up at him. "Thank you," she tells him.

"Not a problem," he replies, stepping back to allow us to pass. Carl acts as our defense, staying in front to take out any walkers, while Abraham and I each take an end, carrying Maggie, and Sasha and Aaron walk on either side. Eugene stands back, watching as we head into the woods. As we continue on, I hear the RV starting behind us, and I hope like hell the Saviors are stupid enough to fall for it.

* * *

 ** _~Aaron~_**

"Aaron, please, just let me walk it," Maggie pleads as we continue through the forest.

"Relax," I tell her. "Just a few more miles."

Up ahead, Carl walks with his father, telling him, "I heard what you said when we were leaving. We can do anything, 'cause we'll do anything we need to do. We have and we will. What happened to Denise, I'm not gonna let anybody die like that again."

"Carl," Rick starts.

"What?"

Before Rick can answer, however, eerie whistles ring out around us. "Go!" Rick orders, gesturing with his head in one direction.

We keep going, running as fast as we can without jostling Maggie too much, Rick and Carl in the lead. The whistles keep getting louder, converging on us, and more frequent. We skid to a halt in a clearing as a light turns on, momentarily blinding us. And I know that if I live through this, the sound of every Savior whistling together, like the screech of an inhuman creature from a horror movie, will haunt me until the moment I die.

As we realize we're surrounded, we back into a circle, closing around Maggie. Like the adults protecting the young and the weak from predators on the safari. We keep our backs to each other, facing the Saviors on every side. Dozens of men, all armed, surround us. Some grin maliciously, some remain expressionless. Where the light came from, I see Eugene on his knees, looking terrified and somewhat ashamed.

"Good," the Savior, the first one we met today, says, stepping forward. "You made it. Welcome to where you're going. We'll take your weapons." He aims his gun at Carl. "Now."

Rick, seeing the gun on his son, tries, "We can talk about—"

"We're done talking. Time to listen."

The Saviors move forward in groups of two, taking our weapons and patting us down. The Savior that does all the speaking moves to take Carl's gun, looking down at it. "That's yours, right?" he questions. He leans down, looking in Carl's remaining eye. "Yeah, it's yours." He raises his hand, flicking the hat. Carl doesn't flinch, doesn't do anything, and I wonder if the Savior knows how much of a mistake he's made. You just don't fuck with Carl, or his hat, because you'll end up dead. He straightens, looking around at the rest of us. "Okay. Let's get her down and get you all on your knees. Lots to cover."

Sasha and I move to take a side, two of the Saviors joining, and Abraham snaps, "Hold it. We got it."

"Let 'em do it," the Savior commands. We lower Maggie down, careful not to drop her. Abraham and Rick help her up, then helping her to her knees. Abraham stays with her, while Eugene is dragged over and forced to his knees as well. No one else kneels. The Savior tells Rick, "We're gonna need you on your knees." Rick looks around at us before nodding once, silently telling us to comply with the command. "Dwight!"

A blonde steps forward, asking, "Yeah?"

"Chop-chop. Bring 'em out."

We watch as Dwight and a few other Saviors drag the five that left this morning out of a van, forcing them to their knees in the line up. Of them all, Glenn's the one that fights the most, asking, "Maggie?"

"On your knees," Dwight barks.

On my left, I hear Carl breathe, "Clary."

The youngest Dixon's eyes are wide as she looks around, seeing us here. She's put on her knees next to Glenn, who's on the end, and I can see her visibly shaking as she takes us all in. She doesn't speak, but her lips still form the words. _You shouldn't be here._ For a brief moment, our eyes meet, before mine dart to her shoulder. I look back at her, and she shakes her head. _I'm good._ I shake my head, not believing her. "Who?" I mouth.

Her eyes go to the blonde that pulled them out, Dwight. The Savior that's done all the speaking chuckles, looking us over. "Looks like we got us a full boat. Time to meet the man."

He steps back, knocking on the side of the RV. I glance over at Clary as he does so, only to find that she's put on the cold-hearted facade she wears so well. But I've known her long enough to know the truth. She's terrified, and it's hard to see a hero like Clary fall. As the door opens, I brace myself to finally face the big bad we've heard so much about.

* * *

 ** _~Negan~_**

I grin as I hear my men whistling in the distance, signalling that this group is close. Light streams in from the windows, and I know they're here, in the clearing. I get to my feet, waiting for the knock on the door. When it finally comes, I grin, putting Lucille on my shoulder as I open the door. I step out, taking in the twelve people, including the small group we took earlier. "Pissing our pants yet?" I question, still in the shadows. I step forward, into the light, as I see the terror on some of their faces. "Boy, do I have a feeling we're getting close." I pace the lineup, looking down at them all. "Yep. It's gonna be pee-pee pants city here real soon." I stop in front of Clary, looking down at her. "Now, I know this one is the leader of her little ragtag, Robin Hood cats, but which which one of you is the real leader?"

"You're lookin' at her," Clary answers.

"Clary…" the curly haired one said, looking towards her.

"You ain't in charge, Rick," she snaps at him. "You lost the crown. You couldn't handle it. It's mine now. So you shut your mouth, and you don't speak unless I say you can. 'Cause you always get us in more trouble."

"One bad day," I say in singsong tone, stepping away from her. "You, dear, already know me, but I'll introduce myself in case your men don't. Hi. I'm Negan." I look down towards her. "And I do not appreciate you killing my men. Also, when I sent my men to kill your men for killing my men, you killed more of my men. Not cool. Not fucking cool. You got no fucking idea how not fucking cool that shit is. But I imagine you'll be up to speed shortly, yeah. You are _so_ gonna regret crossing me in a few minutes." I grin. "Fuck yes, you will. You see, Clary, whatever you do… no matter what… you _do not_ mess with the new world order. The new world order is this, and it's really very simple. So, even if you're fucking stupid, which you may very well be, you can understand it. You ready? Here goes. Pay attention." I take Lucille off my shoulder, holding the bat underneath Clary's chin, just enough so the barbed wire is nearly brushing her chin. I go to move the bat up, and she jerks her head up, eyes on me. I grin, enjoying seeing the fear in them. "You listening? _Give me your shit, or I will kill you."_

"Today was career day," I continue, taking Lucille away as I step back, looking around at her people. "We invested a lot so you would know who I am and what I can do. You work for me now. You have shit, you give it to me. _That's_ your job. Now, I know that is a mighty fucking big, nasty pill to swallow, but swallow it you most certainly motherfucking will." I step back in front of Clary, looking down at her. "You ruled the roost. You built something. You thought you were safe. I get it. The word is out. You are not safe. Not even fucking close. In fact, you're fucked. And more fucked if you don't do what I want. And what I want is half of your shit. And if that's too much, you can make, find, or steal more, and it'll even out sooner or later. This is your way of life now. The more you fight back, the harder it will be. So if someone knocks on your door… you fucking let us in. We own that door. You try to stop us, we'll fucking knock it the fuck down. Understand?"

She doesn't speak.

"What, no answer? Well, you didn't really think you were going to get through this without getting punished, did you? I don't want to kill you people. Just want to make that clear from the get-go. I want you to work for me. You can't very well do that when you're fucking dead, now can you? I'm not growing a garden. But you killed my men. A fucking whole goddamn lot of them, too. More than I'm comfortable with. And for that, you gotta fucking pay. So now… I'm gonna beat the holy fuck fucking fuckedy fuck out of one of you with my bat. Who I call Lucille, for those that don't know. Lucille, as you can see, has barbed wire wrapped around the end of her." I laugh. "She's fucking awesome. All of this, it's just so we can pick out which one of you gets the honor."

I pace back and forth, looking down at the faces in the line up.

"Take me."

I look back at Clary, grinning as I realize she spoke. "What was that? I didn't hear you."

"Take me," she repeats, her voice shaking. "You want to make an example of one of us, kill me."

"No, you're the leader," I say. "I'm not gonna kill you." I pause at the ginger a few people to her left, and he rises on his knees to meet me. I chuckle, looking down at him and his mustache, then rub the stubble on my chin. "Man, I gotta shave this shit." I walk towards the kid in the cowboy hat. "You got one of our guns. You got a lot of our guns." I kneel in front of the one-eyed pet squirrel. "Shit, kid. Lighten up. At least cry a little." He glances to his right, and at first I think it's towards the curly haired one, Rick, who shares a resemblance with him. Then, I follow his gaze, and find that he's looking to their leader instead of his father. "Oh," I say with a laugh, realizing it. "You're little miss leader's lover. Oh, that is _adorable_."

"Get away from him," the leader growls out.

"What's that?" I question, stepping over to her. "You've gotta speak up. Can't hear ya with all that mumbling shit."

"Stay the fuck away from him," Clary growls again.

"Look at that. Kitty's got claws. Meow." I chuckle, stopping in front of the woman with short hair. "Jesus," I drawl out. "You look shitty. I should just put you out of your misery right now."

"No!" comes a shout from my right. "No!" I turn as the Asian scrambles to his feet, and as soon as he's up, Dwight knocks him down, throwing a punch. The shitty looking woman lets out a cry, but it's Clary's action that really shocks me. She tackles Dwight off the Asian with a yell, and they go rolling. She gets the upper hand, dazing Dwight by lifting him by his shirt collar then slamming him back into the dirt. Even with a bullet wound in her shoulder, she's still kicking ass. I'm a bit impressed with her. She throws a punch, hissing to him, " _You fuckin' touch him again, I'll fuckin' kill you."_

"Wow!" I say with a laugh. "Kitty's more of a tiger!" My amusement fades as I look down at them, ordering, "Get 'em back in line."

Dwight pushes Clary off of him, and she lets out a cry as he takes her right arm, squeezing the upper part of it, as he drags her back in line. I grin, watching as the Asian cries out, "Stop! Don't! Don't!"

The scruffy wookie with the fucked up shoulder glares at Dwight, and I can see in his eyes that he's ready to beat the holy fuck out of my man as he throws Clary back into the line. "Alright, listen," I say, then gesture over to Clary and the Asian. "Don't any of you do that again. I will shut that shit down, no exceptions. First one's free, and I'll count your leader's stunt as the first one 'cause it was at the same time. It's an emotional moment, I get it." As I make my way back over to Clary, I notice the Asian shaking, nearly in tears. I look down at Clary. "Sucks, don't it? The moment you realize you don't know shit."

I look over at Rick as he looks towards the kid in hat, then turn my attention to the curly haired ex-leader. I gesture over to the kid with Lucille. "This is your kid, right?" I laugh. "This is definitely your kid."

"Just stop this!" Rick barks.

"Hey!" I snap. "Do not make me kill the little future serial killer, not before his story ends. Too fucking interesting. Don't make it easy on me."

"Negan, can I speak?" I look over to Clary as she asks that, then gesture towards her, giving her the go ahead. "Rick, shut the fuck up. That's all."

"I've gotta pick somebody, and everybody's at the table waiting for me to order." I pace back and forth, looking at each face. I gesture towards the Asian. "I've been called a lot of things, but never a racist. No fucking way. Off limits." I look down at the black girl that was with the second, larger group. "Same. Race card." I look down at the second black girl, the one with dreads. "My, my. There's lots of things I'd like to do to you, and killing you is at the absolute fucking bottom of that list. Still on it, though." I stop in front of Clary. "Hmm, what about you? To these people, you're practically invincible. You're so fucking young, for fuck's sake. What are you, seventeen, eighteen? And you're the _fucking leader._ I mean, hell, you took it from blue eyes over there." The wookie mumbles something, and I glance over at him. "What was that?"

"She's sixteen," he repeats, looking up now. "She's sixteen years old. She's just a kid. Don't hurt her. She's everything I have. Don't hurt my baby sister."

I chuckle. "Oh, yeah, I should've known you two were related. The look in your eyes. You come from the same place."

"Don't hurt her," he repeats.

"Daryl, stop," Clary pleads. "Just stop."

"Take me."

"You know," I say. "You never had to worry about her." I look back down at Clary, smirking, then shift my grip on Lucille. I turn back to Daryl, making my way over to him. "I wasn't gonna pick her."

I raise my bat to swing, only to freeze mid-swing when Clary drops to her knees between her brother and I, shielding his body with hers. "Clary," Daryl mutters.

"Just stop," she whispers, shushing him. She turns, looking up at me, and I see her eyes are shining. "Just take me."

"Dwight," I say. He steps forward, taking her by the arm and pulling her back in line. When she tries to fight back, Dwight backhands her, knocking her to the ground. She gets to her feet, scrambling towards her brother before Dwight can grab her. I catch her before she reaches him, grabbing her by her hair. She's so short, there's not much else I can grab. She cries out, trying to fight back, but I don't let go, dragging her back to her spot in line and throwing her to her knees. "You pull another fucking stunt like that, I'll kill everyone here you care about. Every last _one._ I said no more of that shit!"

I throw a punch to get my point across, causing the Asian and the leader's brother, plus someone from the other end of the line, to let out a cry. I turn to see one of my men pushing the kid back to his knees. I chuckle at that. Kid's ready to fight. Good for him. "Clary," he says.

"Shut it and sit your ass down!" Clary snaps, then spits blood from her now busted lip. "You don't fucking touch them. You said you're gonna kill one of us, no matter what we do. So I'm volunteering."

"How stupid do you think I am?" I question. "What have these people seen you live through? That cut on your neck has to be just the beginning of your scars. You're up and fighting, even with a gunshot wound to your shoulder. I bet they fucking _worship_ you. I'm not gonna turn you into a martyr. You're most definitely off fucking limits." I sigh, stepping back. "I simply cannot fucking decide."

The group kneeling before me glance at each other, and I laugh as a thought comes to mind. "I've got an idea." I point to each of them, starting with Clary, in turn as I say each word. "Eenie… meenie… miney… mo... Catch… a tiger… by his toe... If… he hollers… let him go... My mother… told me… to pick… the very best one… and you are…"

I make a show of pointing to each of them, still trying to make my final decision. I pause on Clary, considering her. She's their leader, isn't she? It would definitely get my point across. But she doesn't even look at me as I wave Lucille in her direction, staring instead up at the sky. She closes her eyes, mumbling something about looking up under her breath.

"It."

* * *

 ** _~A Dead Man~_**

My heart stops when he says the word, dooming me.

" _It._ "

I stare up at Negan, looking around at my family for the final time.

"Anybody moves, anybody says anything, cut the boy's other fucking eye out and feed it to his father," Negan threatens. "And _then_ we'll start. You can breathe, you can blink, you can cry. Hell, you're all gonna be doing that soon enough."

 _Please, don't._


	16. Author's Note

**AUTHOR'S NOTE (and spoilers if you haven't read the last chapter):**

Okay, guys, I got a lot of reviews saying that Clary taking over as the leader is completely unrealistic. "She's 16, she can't be in charge, it's unbelievable."

Look, I appreciate the feedback, I do. But y'all need to stop fucking telling me to change _my **own damn story because it's my fucking story. I'll do what I damn well please.**_

Guys, I have plans for this. I know where this is going, and Clary's not the real leader. It's a front, a facade, because the only thing she wants is to protect her family, and she feels that the only way that she can do that is by saying she's the leader instead of Rick. But that's it! She's just _saying_ it. Rick's still the leader, Clary's become more a second in command, and when they're facing Negan, she "took over" because she wanted to protect Rick, and the rest of her family. Clary feels that Rick doesn't know when to stop, and she thinks that she does, so she wanted to be the one to speak in a hope that she'd be able to prevent one of the people of her group being killed. That's rambling a little bit but I hope you get my point.

It's like a constitutional monarchy, and if you don't know what that is, look at England. There's a crown (Queen Elizabeth II) and there's the people that hold the power (Parliament). In this, Clary's the queen while Rick's Parliament. Rick's still making the calls (aside from the ones that he asks her to make), while Clary's just their face. Like Katniss as the face of the rebellion in _The Hunger Games_. And this comparison brings me to my next point.

I don't hear any of you motherfuckers complaining about it not being realistic that Katniss is the face of the rebellion, and I don't hear any of you complaining that Harry Potter is the leader of Dumbledore's Army or the one destined to fight Voldemort. They're sixteen, seventeen. Hell, Potter was fighting Voldemort when he was a baby. I don't hear anyone bitching to JK that it's not realistic that a baby defeated the darkest wizard to ever walk the earth. Their stories are really not that different. You got a teenage hero/heroine destined for great things, with a certain ability, and a shitty past. All you do is change the names, the setting. It's all the same story. You take out the actual games in THG and put in magic, and suddenly you've got the same story as _Harry Potter -_ a teenager fighting against some evil dude. And that's what we have here.

TBH, I'm surprised if you've stuck around long enough to get to this point in my AN. But yes, I have plans for another one, and I know where I'm taking Clary's story. She's not the one that's truly in charge, they just have to keep up a front that she is, so Negan will believe that this chick is powerful and hey maybe this group isn't one I want to mess with. (lmao too late for that). Don't worry, she won't be in charge _that_ long. She follows Rick's orders, and he trusts her to take command when he's not there because she's proven herself to him that she can be trusted with such a high position of power. That's why he lets her make decisions that will affect the group, because he's made wrong calls that she's fought him on, but she turned out to be right.

 **SO IN CONCLUSION:**

1\. You tell me to change my story, I'll fight your ass.  
2\. Don't bitch about my story if you aren't going to bitch about the other ones like it.  
3\. Stick around because you'll want to see where Clary goes next.


	17. Author's Note 2

**(Guys I'm sorry I hate when people do author's notes like this)**

 **Terribly sorry, but I'm uploading this author's note so those that follow this story or anyone that sees it under the** ** _Walking Dead_** **fanfiction will know that I've uploaded a new fanfiction. It's a Marvel Cinematic Universe crossover with TWD called** ** _The Unforgiven._**

 **Please go check it out it's one I'm really proud of and I'll love you if you do!**


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